THE 


.EGEND  OF  THE  ROCKS, 


AND 


OTHER  POEMS. 


inn 


OTHER    POEMS, 


BY  JAMES  NAGS. 


•  There  is  a  living  spirit  in  the  lyre. 
A  breath  of  music  and  a  soul  of  fire ; 
It  speaks  a  language  to  the  world  unknown  5 
It  speaks  that  language  to  the  Bard  alone." 

MONTGOMERY 


SZW-YORK  : 

PRINTED  BY  E.  CONRAD 

11  FRAKKFOKT-ST. 

1827. 


Southern  District  of  A'ew-Forfe,  ss. 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  15th  day  of 
August,  A.  D.  1827,  in  the52d  year  of  the  Independence 
I  of  the  United  States  of  America,  Abraham  Asten,  of  the 
said  District,  hath  deposited  in  this  office,  the  Title  of  a 
Book,  the  right  whereof,  he  claims  as  Proprietor,  in  the 
words  following,  to  wit: 
The  Legend  of  the  Rocks,  and  other  Poems     By  James  Nack      "  There 
is  a  living  spirit  in  the  lyre,  A  breath  of  muvic,  and  a  soul  of  fire  ;  It 
speaks  a  language  to  the  world  unknown ;  It  speaks  that  language  to 
the  Sard  alone  /"     MONTGOMERY. 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled 
"  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of 
Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and  proprietors  of  such  co 
pies,  during  the  time  therein  mentioned."  And  also  to  an  Act,  entitled 
'•  An  Act,  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled  an  Act  for  the  encourage 
ment  ot  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  BOOKS, 
to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned,  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing, 
engraving,  and  etching  historical  and  other  prints."  FRED.  j.  BETTS. 
Clerk  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


TO 

WXLLIAK  A.  SEEL7,  ESQ. 

THIS  VOLUME, 

AS  A  TRIBUTE  OX1 

ESTEEM,  GRATITUDE,  AND  AFFECTION, 
IS  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED, 

BY  HIS  OBLIGED,    HUMBLE  SERVART, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


M189263 


POEMS, 

BY  JAMES 


•teeuttft- 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ROCKS 


O  NATURE,  canst  thou  smile  serene, 
While  havoc  stalks  around  the  scene  ? 
The  dazzling  rider  of  the  skies 
Bends  from  his  car  with  laughing  eyes ; 
And,  warbling  down  the  mountain's  side, 
The  torrent  sends  its  rapid  tide, 
Till  rocky  fragments  check  its  path ; 
Awhile  it  foams  in  seeming  wrath. 
Then,  bounding  o'er  the  barrier's  force. 
Again  it  smiles  upon  its  course, 

A2 


And  gliding  calm  beneath,  it  winds 
Till  briny  Ocean's  arms  it  finds. 

But  no  congenial  sounds  attend 
With  its  wild  melody  to  blend ; 
No  feather'd  warblers  throng  the  trees, 
Whose  leaflets  trembling  kiss  the  breeze 
No  birds  but  birds  of  prey,  are  there. 
Who  for  a  bloody  feast  prepare. 
No  lovers  there  in  accents  sweet, 
Their  ardent  vows  of  truth  repeat ; 
Instead  of  Love's  enchanting  sound, 
The  roar  of  battle  spreads  around : 
The  shout  of  Victory — the  yell 
Of  death — a  concert  terrible  ! 

Mark  yonder  youth,  with  rapid  stride. 
Jlushing,  with  carnage  at  his  side, 
O'er  dying  foes,  while  from  his  might 
The  living  safety  seek  in  flight ; 
Or,  if  they  dare  oppose  him,  all 
Beneath  his  boyish  prowess  fall* 

But  see,  to  check  his  bright  career, 
A  foe  of  kindred  soul  appear, 
Rushing  alone  to  the  attack, 
Waving  his  craven  followers  back* 


(     1     ) 

The  foes  before  his  arms  who  fled, 
The  heir  of  Carodale  had  led 
Beside  a  mountain  torrent,  gushing 
O'er  scatter'd  rocks,  beneath  it  blushing 
With  many  a  streak  whose  bloody  trace 
It  veils,  but  never  can  efface. 

Sudden  he  started,  faint  and  pale. 
The  fatal  Rocks  of  Carodale 
He  recogniz'd,  by  legends  old 
111  omen'd  to  his  race  foretold. 

'Tis  said,  the  first  that  on  the  name 
Of  Carodale  bestow'd  its  fame, 
Led  in  the  eager  chase  astray 
Here  wander'd  at  the  close  of  day : 
He  threwr  himself  the  stream  beside, 
Lull'd  by  the  murmur  of  its  tide, 
And  by  the  day's  fatigue  opprest 
Welcom'd  the  soft  embrace  of  rest. 

At  midnight  hour  his  slumbers  fled, 
He  started  from  his  grassy  bed ; 
The  spangled  diadem  of  night 
Resplendent  beam'd  upon  his  sight : 
But  while  his  glance  regardless  turning, 
From  the  bright  gems  above  him  burning, 
Toward  a  mountain,  where  appear'd 
A  rocky  pyramid  uprear'd  : 


(          3          ) 

Backward  he  started  with  amaze. 
Then  turn'd  again,  with  eager  gaze. 
The  nature  of  the  form  to  seek 
Descried  upon  the  giddy  peak. 

Might  it  not  be  a  cloud  of  heaven, 
Its  form  of  life  by  fancy  given  ? 
But  hark,  that  sound  !  repressing  fear, 
Rush'd  Carodale  impetuous  near. 

Nearer  and  nearer  as  he  drew 
The  form  receded  from  his  view, 
Hid  by  the  mountain,  but  its  height 
Attain'd,  again  upon  his  sight 
The  apparition  burst — a  maid 
From  head  to  foot  in  white  array'd. 

Silent  and  motionless  they  stood, 
He  would  have  spoken  if  he  could, 
But  a  resistless  awe  had  flung 
The  wand  of  silence  on  his  tongue. 

At  last  she  spoke :  "  Say,  warrior,  why 
Thy  fear  ?  A  timid  maid  am  I, 
Who,  far  from  being  fear'd,  might  be 
As  others  would,  afraid  of  thee." 
k<  My  lady  fair,  in  battle  day 
I  shrink  not  from  the  arm'd  array ; 


(         9         ) 

But  here  to  find  thee  at  this  hour, 
Awaken'd  Superstition's  power, 
That  would,  despite  of  reason,  tell 
Thou  from  a  world  invisible 
Hadst  come,  th'  unhallow'd  eyes  to  blast 
Around  thy  haunts  presumptuous  cast. 

But  laughing  at  those  vain  alarms, 
Superior  alone  in  charms 
To  others  of  thy  sex,  I  trust 
To  find  thee.  if  my  thoughts  be  just. 

But  lady,  it  were  haply  rude 
On  what  concerns  thee  to  intrude : 

What  to  myself  relates  I  tell " 

"  And  that  I  know  already  well ; 
For  though  we  never  met  btfurc, 
Thy  name  I  know — thy  deeds  in  war : 
I  know  what  brought  to  yonder  vale 
The  gallant  Lord  of  Carodale. 
But  haste  thee,  haste  thee  to  my  halls, 
The  dew  of  night  around  thee  falls." 

She  took  his  hand — at  once  the  light 
Of  heaven,  vanish'd  from  his  sight, 
Above — around — where'er  his  eye 
Was  turn'd,  it  found  but  darkness  nigh : 
He  felt  a  momentary  thrill 
But  on  her  path  attended  still. 


Suddenly  bursting  on  his  gaze, 
Ten  thousand  thousand  meteors  blaze. 
Now  o'er  the  skies  resplendent  roll'd, 
They  wave  a  sea  of  flaming  gold ; 
Asunder  then  from  their  embraces 
They  burst,  and  each  the  other  chases. 
Dancing  upon  its  flaming  wing 
On  high,  in  bright  fantastic  ring : 
And  then  in  showery  spangles,  all 
Like  stars  dethron'd  from  heaven  fall ; 
Like  serpents  wreath'd  they  then  aspire, 
A  dazzling  pyramid  of  fire. 
But  brighter  far  around  was  thrown 
The  light  in  Beauty's  eye  that  shone ; 
Where'er  he  turn'd,  some  bright-ey'd  maid 
A  heav'n  of  loveliness  display'd ; 
But  she,  the  guide  of  Carodale, 
Disrob'd  her  beauty  of  its  veil, 
And  stood  before  his  eyes  confest, 
The  brightest  and  the  loveliest. 

As  sweetly  rose  the  voice  of  song, 
With  airy  step  they  trip'd  along 
Around  th'  admiring  stranger,  who 
A  wond'ring  glance  upon  them  threw; 
Then  turning  to  his  guide,  he  said, 
"  Fair  lady,  whither  am  I  led  ? 
And  who  are  these  ?  And  who  art  thou  ?" 
Clouds  darken  on  the  lady's  brow, 


Sudden  the  meteor's  blaze  expires, 
Then  burst  again  their  thousand  fires, 
Disclosing  only  by  their  light, 
The  lady  and  the  wond'ring  knight." 

"  Whatever  thou  shall  hear  or  see, 
Its  nature  dare  not  ask  of  me, 
For  this  is  all  that  I  may  tell, 
I  love  thee — and  I  love  thee  well  1" 

He  starts,  as  to  his  ear  are  sent, 
Breathing  unearthly  ravishment, 
Those  words  of  love — of  blessedness — 
In  a  delirium  of  bliss 
He  bows  her  loveliness  before ; 
il  I  thought  that  1  might  scarce  adore, — 
But  oh  !  shall  I  the  bliss  obtain 
To  love  and  be  belov'd  again  ? 
And  may  I  dare  to  call  thee  mine  ?" 
"  Yes,  I  am  thine,  forever  thine ; — 
But  if  thou  dare  forget  this  hour, 
Awaits  thee  my  avenging  power  ; 
Let  but  thy  truth  a  moment  fail, 
And  tremble,  Lord  of  Carodale  ! 
I'll  clasp  thee  in  the  arms  of  death, 
I'll  yield  with  thine  my  dying  breath ; 
Come  life — come  death — we  shall  not  sever, 
For  thou  are  mine,  and  mine  forever!" 


(         12         ) 

Oft  as  the  moonlight  fair  displayed 
The  mountain  imag'd  in  its  shade, 
Upon  its  head  might  be  descried 
The  knight,  awaiting  for  his  bride, 
Till  she  arriv'd  at  midnight  hour, 
To  lead  him  to  her  fairy  bower. 

O  who  the  maid  could  look  upon 
The  Lord  of  Carodale  had  won, 
And  think  the  heart  that  once  he  gave  her, 
Could  ever  for  a  moment  waver  ? 

The  poet's  and  the  lover's  dream, 
That  lends  to  its  ideal  theme 
The  loveliness  to  earth  denied, 
Might  find  in  her,  and  none  beside, 
The  bright  original,  array 'd 
In  all  by  Fancy's  tints  pourtray'd. 
O  Woman,  canst  thou  hope  to  find 
A  heart  that  constancy  will  bind, 
When  she  with  whom,  however  fair, 
None  under  heaven  might  compare, 
E'en  the  bride  of  Carodale, 
Was  doom'd  his  falsehood  to  bewail ! 

Sure  of  his  falsehood  and  her  fate, 
His  coming  she  would  still  await, 
Till  midnight  hour  arriv'd  and  past, 
When  sinking  from  her  rock  at  last, 


(          13         ) 

She  sought  her  fairy  bower,  forlorn. 
The  rapid  flight  of  Love  to  mourn. 

'Tis  midnight  hour — the  meteor's 'glare- 
Flashing  entwines  the  mountain,  there 
Upon  its  pinnacle  disclosing 
The  Lord  of  Carodale  reposing ; 
Upon  a  rocky  bed  he  lies, 
His  canopy  the  starless  skies. 

And  who  is  she  half  bending  hung 
Above,  her  arms  around  him  flung  .? 
He  dreams  'tis  she  whom  to  obtain. 
The  great — the  brave  had  sought  in  vain. 
Till  she  in  Carodale  confest 
At  last  the  idol  of  her  breast : 
And  could  he  with  unkind  neglect 
An  offer d  paradise  reject  ? 
Forgetful  that  his  heart  and  hand 
Another  justly  might  demand. 
To  all  except  her  beauty  blind. 
He  both  to  Adelaide  resigned. 

Not  her's  the  arms  that  clasp  him  now. 
Not  her's  that  lightning  girdled  brow — 
That  eye  of  fire — that  voice  of  fear 
Bursting  upon  his  startled  ear. 


(          14          ) 

"  Awake  thee,  Carodale,  awake, 
And  from  the  arms  that  clasp  thee  break." 

He  started — burst  from  her  embrace. 
But  stood  transfix'd  upon  the  place, 
As  if  some  spell  upon  him  thrown, 
Had  petrified  his  limbs  to  stone : 
His  eyes  like  death's  were  fix'd  and  glaz'd 
As  on  the  fire  of  her's  they  gaz'd, 
While  on  his  ear  appalling  fell 
Her  accents  soft  but  terrible. 

':  O  dearly  shall  thy  race  regret 
The  hour  that  we  together  met ; 
The  hour  1  was  thy  victim  made, 
My  love  by  perjury  repaid. 
Full  many  a  bride  like  thine  shall  mourn. 
The  husband  from  her  bosom  tdrn ; 
Full  many  a  child  like  thine  shall  weep 
For  sires  in  bloody  graves  who  sleep, 
Victims  to  my  avenging  power 
Thy  race  attending  from  this  hour. 
Till  on  these  rocks  our  mingled  gore 
Shall  blush  to  tell  our  fate  no  more.'- 
Her  arms  again  were  thrown  around  him ; 
Firm  the  embrace  in  which  they  bound  him, 
In  vain  he  struggled  in  their  hold ; 
Together  headlong  down  they  roll'd, 


While  thus  her  fearful  words  ascended, 
His  dying  groans  among  them  blended  : 
"  I  clasp  thee  in  the  anus  of  death, 
I  yield  with  thine  my  dying  breath  : 
Whom  death  unites,  no  power  shall  sever. 
For  thou  art  mine,  and  mine  forever  !*' 


As  blushing  in  their  crimson  dye 
The  rocks  addrest  his  startled  eye. 
The  memory  of  Carodale 
Recall'd  the  oft  repeated  tale, 
In  this  at  least  appearing  true, 
Some  curse  did  all  his  race  pursue, 
That  to  his  brave  arm'd  fathers  gave 
An  early  and  a  bloody  grave, 
And  many  a  bride  and  orphan  left 
Of  husbands  and  of  sires  bereft. 

The  influence  of  this  curse  as  yet. 
His  father  nor  himself  had  met, 
For  all  was  shower'd  upon  his  sire 
Love  or  ambition  could  require ; 
An  angel  bride  who  lov'd  him  dearly, 
An  offspring  who  reflected  clearly 
Their  mother's  loveliness,  combin'd 
With  their  heroic  father's  mind. 


(          16          ) 

The  heroes  of  his  native  land 
Were  sway'd  beneath  his  high  command. 
And  though  of  these  not  one  but  found 
What  each  deserv'd,  a  name  renown'd, 
Sooner  the  trembling  stars  would  dare 
Their  glories  with  the  sun's  compare, 
Than  they  from  fame's  award  to  claim 
With  Carodale  an  equal  name. 
And  he,  the  hero's  youthful  son, 
A  name  among  the  brave  had  won 
In  former  fields,  and  why  in  this 
Should  he  expect  the  same  to  miss  ? 

Not  long  by  that  heroic  breast 
Was  Superstition's  fear  confest ; 
He  turn'd, — the  coming  foe  he  brav'd  ; 
Upon  their  swords,  contending  wav'd, 
As  round  the  warriors'  helms  they  flew 
The  sun  his  dazzling  image  threw, 
As  pleas'd  upon  their  valour  gazing 
He  twin'd  for  each  a  halo  blazing 
With  radiant  glory,  from  his  own 
Effulgency  reflected  throAvn. 

Their  boyish  lineaments  proclaim 
The  heroes  are  in  age  the  same ; 
And  as  they  struggle  in  the  fight, 
The  same  you  would  declare  their  might. 


(          17         ) 

For  A'  ictory  appears  to  rest    " 
Alternate  upon  either  crest, 
Uncertain  where  at  last  to  fling. 
The  glory  of  her  dazzling  wing. 

Full  well  thy  weapon,  Maurice,  show? 
A  hero's  blood  within  thee  flows ; — 
But  ah  !  thy  rival's  arms  prevail ! 
Thou  fallest,  heir  of  Carodale! 

The  stream  his  lifeless  form  receives. 
That  bloody  streaks  behind  it  leaves 
As  gliding  where  the  current  leads 
It  from  the  victor's  eyes  recedes.    - 

But  hark,  what  yells  of  fury  rise  ! 
Not  thunder,  when  it  tears  the  skies, 
And  earth  below  in  terror  shrieks, 
In  voice  of  deeper  horror  speaks ; 
Nor  when  through  darkened  heaven  dashes 
The  lightning's  tide,  more  dread  its  flashes 
Than  in  that  warrior's  eyes  are  blazing 
Upon  his  son's  destroyer  gazing, 
While  frantic  shouts  of  rage  ascend, 
From  all  who  on  his  path  attend. 

"  And  art  thou  fallen  in  the  place 
Accurst  to  all  thy  father's  race ! 


(.          18          ) 

.But  fatal  rocks  those  rocks  shall  be? 
By  yonder  heav'n,  to  more  than  thee  ! 
Secure — disarm  him — but  forbear 
To  touch  the  life  that  I  would  spare, 
Until  the  field  be  fought  and  won, 
And  then  revenge  is  thine,  my  son  !" 
They  rush — they  throng  the  youth  around. 
And  from  the  field,  disarm'd  and  bound, 
They  drag  him  to  their  chieftain's  camp. 
To  wait  the  moment  that  shall  stamp 
His  destiny. — Meantime  the  sword 
Of  Carodale  destruction  pour'd  ; 
The  frantic  might  that  vengeance  gave. 
Had  made  the  bravest  doubly  brave ; 
And  kindling  at  his  madden'd  ire, 
His  warrior's  rag'd  with  kindred  fire. 
The  living  from  their  fury  sweeping, 
And  .dying  throngs  before  them  heaping. 

The  field  is  won, — the  foe  has  fled, — 
And  laurels  clasp  the  victor's  head  ; 
But  ah  !  they  wreath  a  darken'd  brow, 
That  smil'd  in  their  embrace  till  now  ! 
But  could  he  smile,  bereft  of  one 
Belov'd  as  his  heroic  son  ? 
O  think  not  that  in  glory's  sound, 
The  voice  of  Nature  can  be  drown'd  ! 
Though  glory  no  heroic  soul 
Could  more  than  Carodale's  control 


(          19          ) 

How  gladly  would  he  throw  away 
The  fame  of  that  victorious  day. 
And  fly  from  those  who  fled  before  him ; 
Could  infamy  his  son  restore  him  ! 


'Tis  night. — and  heaven's  myriad  eyes 
Display  where  many  a  warrior  lies. 
Amid  the  throng  his  arm  had  spread 
Around  him,  on  a  gory  bed. 
There  some,  upon  their  throbless  breasts. 
Pillow,  perhaps,  the  fallen  crests 
Of  those  to  whom  their  fury  gave. 
Before  they  found  the  same,  a  grave. 

Alone  the  silence  to  dispel 
The  measured  tramp  of  sentinel, 
\nd  the  low  murmur  of  his  song, 
Mix'd  with  the  breeze's  voice  along. 
That  scarce  disturbed,  as  gliding  by. 
The  victor's  banner  planted  high. 

Toward  the  field  of  battle  glancing. 
Antonio,  startled,  sees  advancing 
A  warrior  from  the  heap  of  slain, 
As  one  were  call'd  to  life  again, 
Arm'd  in  the  terrors  of  the  grave 
His  conqueror  again  to  brave. 


(          20          ) 

It  was  not  quite  devoid  of  fear 
He  saw  that  warrior  striding  near ; 
But  let  him  be  of  earth  or  not, 
Antonio  scorns  to  quit  the  spot. 
Or  call  another's  arms  for  aid. 
Against  a  single  hostile  blade. 

The  stranger  now  was  at  his  side  ; 
"  Where  is  your  chieftain  ?  Where  ?"  He  cry'd, 
"  Where  is  he  ?  Instant  lead  me  there  !" 
What  wouldst  thou  with  him  ?" 

"  Wilt  thou  dare 

The  way  of  Uthwold's  chief  impede  ? 
To  Carodale  this  instant  lead : — 
Ha  !  Wilt  not  ?  This  brooks  no  delay, 
Where  now  thou  art  forever  stay  !" 
At  once  Antonio's  helm  is  riven, 
But  ere  a  deadlier  blow  is  given, 
The  clash  of  their  contending  arms, 
The  warriors  around  alarms. 
"  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  the  foe  is  nigh  !" 
From  tongue  to  tongue  resounds  the  cry 
Throughout  the  camp,  and  hurried  all 
Pour  forth  tumultuous  at  the  call. 

Awaken'd  from  a  trance  of  grief, 
Sternly  among  them  comes  their  chief; 
Their  clamours  wild  his  presence  hush'd, 
They  saw  his  aspect  calm,  and  blush'd 


(          21          ) 

That  they  themselves  had  fears  confest, 
Unworthy  of  the  soldier's  breast. 

"  Where  is  the  foe  you  seek  ?"  He  cry'd- 
*'  Turn  and  behold  him  at  thy  side  ! 
As  thou  didst  love  thy  fallen  son. — 
As  thou  dost  prize  thy  laurels  won, 
Or  future  laurels  wouldst  procure, 
Lord  Carodale,  I  thee  adjure 
Alone  to  hear  me,  while  I  name 
The  danger  that  awaits  thy  fame." 
••  What  of  my  son  ?"  In  accents  wild 
He  cry'd,  ''  6  tell  me  of  my  child  !» 
He  sought  his  tent  with  hasty  stride, 
The  stranger  leading  at  his  side, 
And  then  with  tremulous  voice  exclamrd, 
-  O  say  why  thou  my  son  hast  nam'd  P 
i;  Didst  thou  not  love  him  ?" 

';  Sure  no  sire, 

Could  of  another  that  inquire  ! 
No  infant  innocence  carest  thee, 
?\or  dawning  valours  laurels  blest  thee, 
No  father  hast  thou  been,  nor  art. 
Or  thou  wouldst  know  a  father's  heart." 
•'  A  father's  heart  as  well  I  know 
As  thou — Behold  thy  deadly  foe  ! 
Uthwold  himself  before  thee  stands 
Alone  amid  thv  hostile  bands ; — 


(         22          ) 

A  father's  heart  has  hither  led  me. 

Where  there  are  none  but  hate  or  dread  me." 

His  helm  aside  the  chieftain  laid, 
And  his  dark  lineaments  displayed 
To  Carodale,  who  thus  express'd 
The  feelings  rising  in  his  breast. 
"  Uthwold  !  it  is  with  pitying  grief 
I  meet  thee  thus,  thou  outlaw'd  chief ! 
For  now  returns  to  memory's  eye, 
The  years  of  happiness  gone  by, 
When  each  could  welcome  in  the  other, 
His  dearest  friend, — his  heart's  best  brother. 
Though  thou  on  the  embattled  field, 
Thy  parricidal  arm  didst  wield 
Against  thy  country,  and  hast  riven 
Away  the  heart  to  thine  once  given, 
A  brave  and  noble  friend  I've  known  thee. 
And  brave  and  noble  still  I  own  thee ; 
Rebel  and  traitor  as  thou  art, 
Still  fondly  turns  to  thee  my  heart, 
And  wouldst  thou  treason's  cause  resign, 
That  heart  were  altogether  thine." 

"  Not  Uthwold's  were  a  traitor's  brand — 
*  THE  SAVIOUR  OF  HIS  NATIVE  LAND  !' 
That  name  had  blest  him,  had  his  might 
Avail'd  to  do  his  country  right. 


(         23         ) 

But  I  will  fly  the  patriot's  fame, 
And  welcome  a  dishonours!  name. 
And  bid  mine  injur'd  country  groan 
Beneath  a  vile  usurper's  throne, 
Vnd  bear  the  curse  and  scorn  of  all 
Whose  blessings  now  upon  me  fall ; — 
Yes,  Uthwold's  Chief  will  deign  to  be 
A  despot's  slave,  as  vile  as  thee, 
And  e'en  in  him,  the  wretch  whose  guilt, 
His  country's  noblest  blood  has  spilt, 
\Yill  own — nay  not  a  friend — a  lord 
And  master — if  he  will  accord 
One  boon — a  boon  that  to  deny, 
Would  bid  his  ev'ry  laurel  die." 

i;  Such  language,  daring  and  severe. 
As  yet  has  never  met  my  ear ; 
But  this  I  well  from  thee  can  bear; 
And  whatsoe'er  the  boon,  I  swear 
To  grant  it  if  my  power  extend, 
'Tis  granted  to  regain  a  friend, 
And  purchase  for  a  nobler  cause, 
The  sword  he  for  Rebellion  draws." 

"  Lord  Carodale,  hast  thou  not  sworn. 
The  dawning  of  to-morrow's  mom, 
To  yonder  rocks  shall  see  thee  lead 
A  noble  victim,  there  to  bleed — 


(          24          ) 

For  what ! — For  being  brave  !  O  shame 
Eternal  light  upon  thy  name 
If  thou  canst  do  it !" 

"  Uthwold,  what 
Concerns  thee  in  the  rebel's  lot  ?" 
"  He  is  the  heir  of  one  whom  thou 
Hast  call'd  thy  bosom  friend  but  now ; 
And  though  our  hearts  were  long  estrang'd, 
Those  hearts  shall  be  again  exchang'd  5 
Aye  !  and  thy  tyrant  shall  command, 
The  service  of  my  heart  and  hand, 
If  thou  my  Alvo  canst  forgive 
His  valiant  arm,  and  bid  him  live." 

"  Forgive  him  !  never  !  with  what  pride 
I  watch'd  my  son's  victorious  stride, 
And  smil'd  to  think,  that  when  at  last 
His  father's  bright  career  were  past. 
Around  his  brow  would  fame  entwine 
A  brighter  wreath  than  beams  on  mine. 
My  hopes  forever  overthrown, 
Shall  not  the  blood  of  him  atone 
Who  blasted  them,  and  from  my  name 
Has  torn  the  pillar  of  its  fame  ?" 

"  Yet  Aldimer  is  left  to  thee 
To  link  it  to  eternity  : — 
Say,  hast  thou  not  another  son  ? 
Then  spare — O  spare  mine  only  one  ! 


(          25         ) 

Nay  turn  not  thus  away — but  see 

E'en  haughty  Uthwold  bends  his  knee  !" 

"  He  kneels  in  vain — The  eyes  of  light 
Shall  open  to  a  bloody  sight, 
A  victim  to  my  slaughtered  son 
The  rocks  of  Carodale  upon  !" 

"  Be  I  the  victim  then  !  O  spare 
My  son,  and  let  his  father  bear 
Whatever  thou  wouldst  inflict !" 

"  Away  ! 
:Tis  dangers  voice  forbids  delay." 

"  Danger!  ha!  saidst  thou ?  dost  thou  threat! 
But  Uthwold  may  not  answer  yet. 
Though  keen  is  the  avenging  steel, 
O  keener  far  the  pangs  I  feel ! 
And  thou  shall  feel  them  too — The  doom 
Is  past  upon  thee,  to  thy  tomb, 
With  anguish  wild  to  recollect 
The  hour  thou  durst  my  boon  reject ; 
And  ev'ry  drop  of  Alvo's  blood, 
Shall  prove  to  thee  a  burning  flood." 

A  fierce  unearthly  glance  he  cast 
Al  Carodale,  and  from  him  past, 


(          26          ) 

While  he  in  solitude  resigned 

To  painful  reverie  his  mind, 

From  which  approaching  footsteps  near 

Disturb'd  him,  as  they  reach'd  his  ear. 

A  soldier's  voice  admission  claim'd, 

He  enter'd  and  his  errand  nam'd : 

"  I  come  from  Alvo — that  my  lord 

To-night  would  sec  him,  he  implor'd." 

"  And  let  him  come — As  Uthwold  knelt. 

In  vain  this  broken  heart  to  melt, 

Let  Alvo  too  for  mercy  bend 

In  vain,  for  none  shall  I  extend." 

He  comes — but  nor  in  look  nor  mien 
Of  fear  can  any  trace  be  seen ; 
His  step  is  firm,  and  calm  his  brow  ; 
"  Lord  Carodale,  1  come  not  now 
In  tears  to  grovel  at  thy  feet, 
And  mercy  that  I  scorn  entreat ; 
No,  Alvo  comes  not  to  disgrace 
The  spirit  of  his  haughty  race. 
Lord  Carodale,  my  doom  I  know 
From  mine,  and  from  my  country's  foe. 
But  need  not  say  I  dread  it  not, 
Unless  my  sire  thou  have  forgot. 
My  sun  of  fame  that  dawn'd  so  bright 
By  thee  is  set  in  timeless  night : 


(          27          ) 

By  thee  the  flow'rs  of  hope  that  bloom'd 

So  fair,  in  blood  must  be  entomb'd ; 

And  dreader  far,  by  thee  I  part 

From  all  who  priz'd  and  shar'd  my  heart! 

Lord  Carodale,  by  thee  I  die  ; 

But  thou  wilt  not  my  boon  deny, 

To  tell  my  lov'd  betrothed  bride, 

Her  Alvo  bless' d  her  as  he  died." 

"  If  deign  the  Lord  of  Carodale 
To  bear  of  love  thy  silly  tale, 
What  castle  holds  thy  lady  fair  ?" 
*'  I  know  not — I  was  never  there." 
"  How  met  you  then  ?  And  where  P» 

"  One  night 

I  pass'd  by  yonder  rocky  height, 
And  witness'd  with  a  thrill  of  dread, 
A  maid  descending  from  its  head. 
A  veil  from  head  to  foot  conceal'd 
Her  form  and  figure — but  reveaPd 
The  dazzling  splendor  of  her  eyes, 
Like  stars  that  burst  the  shrouded  skies. 
She  paus'd — one  glance  upon  me  threw, 
Then  like  an  airy  spirit  flew ; 
My  steps  attended  her's  amid 
A  wood,  when  sudden  darkness  hid 
All  that  around  had  met  mine  eyes, 
And  when  again  the  spangled  skies 


(          28          ) 

Upon  me  in  their  beauty  shown, 
I  found  the  apparition  flown. 

"  I  paus'd,  till  came  upon  mine  ear 
The  clash  of  arms, — the  shriek  of  fear ; — 
I  hasten'd  where  the  scene  display'd 
A  ruffian  band — a  captive  maid ; 
Of  her  attendants  on  the  ground 
Some  bleeding  lay,  the  rest  were  bound. 
One  moment  on  the  scene  I  gaz'd, — 
My  sword  was  bar'd — my  arm  was  rais'dj- 
Its  fury  on  the  ruffian  fell, 
Who  fled  away  with  terror's  yell. 
I  granted  her  request  to  stay 
And  be  the  guardian  of  her  way. 
Ere  long  her  heart  and  mine  drew  nearer, 
And  dearer  each  became  and  dearer ; 
The  passion  that  J  soon  betray'd, 
Was  with  approving  smile  repaid ; 
But  ere  she  gain'cl  her  father's  hall, 
I  left  her  at  the  battle  call. 

This  portrait  see — this  braid  of  hair 
That  in  my  bosom  still  I  wear! 
Lord  Carodale — why  start'st  thou  so  I 
If  thou  my  Julia  chance  to  know, — 
If  my  belov'd  thou  ever  see, 
O  charge  her  to  remember  me!" 


(         29         ) 

"  Aye  that  she  shall,  as  one  who  gave 
Her  brother  an  untimely  grave!" 
Her  brother!" 

"  Yes,  in  Maurice  bled 
Her  brother,  and  upon  thy  head, 
Her  curses  shall  with  mine  be  pour'd, 
To  give  thy  love  its  due  reward." 

Those  arms  so  wildly  tost  on  high. — 
That  throbbing  brow — that  bursting  eye, — 
Like  lightning's  wings  thro'  darkness  flashing— 
That  laugh — those  teeth  convulsive  gnashing — 
That  quiv'ring  lip — the  deep  excess 
Of  madden'd  agony  express. 

They  bore  him  raving  from  their  chief, 
Who  sought  in  slumber's  arms  relief 
From  warring  passions,  that  his  breast 
With  their  contentions  wild  opprest. 


The  sun's  arising  beams  display 
Of  Carodale  the  throng'd  array ; 
No  banners  proudly  wav'd  unfurl'd, 
But  round  the  standards  drooping  curl'd ; 
The  drum — the  trump — the  clarion  shrill, 
That  echo'd  oft  from  hill  to  hill, 
c  2 


(          30          ) 

Breathing  upon  the  ardent  fire 
That  wings  the  martial  spirit  higher. 
In  cadence  soft  and  mournful,  swell. 
As  now  they  breathe  a  hero's  knell. 

On  yonder  rock  see  Carodale, 
Where,  if  we  may  believe  the  tale. 
The  fairy  lady's  curse  was  past 
In  former  times,  his  race  to  blast. 

Impatient  longer  to  remain 
He  call'd  for  Alvo,  but  in  vain : 
Not  one  of  all  his  warriors  nigh, 
Who  dar'd  to  his  demand  reply, 
Till,  while  abash'd  retir'd  the  rest, 
Antonio  thus  his  chief  addrest : 

"  Last  night,  at  hour  of  midnight  came, 
A  sudden  tremor  o'er  my  frame ; 
A  whirlwind  rock'd  the  trembling  ground. 
And  vivid  meteors  flam'd  around, 
As  if  away  the  veil  were  riven, 
That  hides  from  earth  the  blaze  of  heaven- 
Didst  thou  not  mark  it,  Carodale  ?" 
"  No,  nor  believe  thine  idle  tale." 
"  To  doubt  it  is  to  do  me  wrong, 
For  proof  I  turn  thee  to  this  throng, 
Who  shar'd  the  tremor  that  I  knew. 
And  witness'd  what  I  witness'd  too: 


(          31          ) 

But  if  thou  other  proof  \vouldst  find, 
Seek  Alvo's  guards,  now  stricken  blind  : 
Whose  eyes  in  an  unearthly  night 
Some  power  has  seal'd.  to  aid  the  flight 
Of  him.  to-day  by  thee  decreed 
Upon  the  fatal  rocks  to  bleed. 
Of  whom  no  trace  can  now  be  found, 
Though  well  we  all  have  look'd  around." 

While  thus  he  hears  his  victim's  flight. 
What  but  some  talisman  of  might 
Subdues  him  thus,  that  he  proceeds 
As  calmly  as  he  nothing  heeds  ! 
Nor  word  nor  gesture  rage  betray ; 
As  from  the  rocks  he  turns  away. 


The  towers  of  Carodale  are  nigh 
To  greet  their  lord's  returning  eye. 
Oh  once  how  swift  he  wing-d  his  steed — 
How  laggard  seems  its  lightning  speed. 
Returning  his  belov'd  to  meet, 
And  shower  his  laurels  at  her  feet ! 
But  now  that  he  had  left  behind 
Their  son  belov'd  to  death  resign'd. 
With  a  reluctant  step  and  slow 
He  comes — the  messenger  of  woe  ! 


(          32          ) 

With  rapture  sparkling  in  her  eyes 
She  runs, — to  his  embrace  she  flies, 
"  My  love !  my  Carodale !"  are  all 
The  words  that  joy  permits  to  fall, 
But  in  her  eyes,  all  words  above, 
He  reads  the  eloquence  of  love. 

At  last  from  his  embrace  unbound, 
She  sends  her  eager  glance  around, 
"  And  Maurice  ?  Why  does  he  delay 
A  mother's  fond  embraces  ?  Nay 
My  love,  why  dost  thou  darken  so  ?" — 
He  struggles  to  reply — but  no — 
The  words  to  silence  back  were  flung, 
Upon  his  lips  that  quiv'ring  hung. 
He  turn'd  to  dash  away  the  tears 
Unknown  till  then  from  infant  years ; 
She  hastened, — to  her  throbbing  breast 
Her  Carodale  she  fondly  prest, 
And  mix'd  her  tears  with  his,  although 
She  knew  not  what  had  bid  them  flow. 

What  angel  she,  who  to  the  bower 
Approaches  in  that  mournful  hour  ? 
'Tis  Julia ; — to  her  sire  she  springs, 
But  round  him  as  her  arms  she  flings, 
Their  weeping  eyes  her  parents  raise, 
She  starts  as  anguish  meets  her  gaze, 


(          33          ) 

And  sinking,  asks  on  bended  knee 
To  share  their  grief,  whate'er  it  be. 

"  Maurice  is  slain  ! — Nay  why  that  start- 
That  shriek  as  it  would  rend  thy  heart  ? 
I  tell  thee  girl,  that  thou  wilt  bless 
The  cause  of  all  our  wretchedness." 

"  Bless  him  !  May  heaven's  curses  rain 
On  him  who  has  my  brother  slain  I" 
"  And  yet  he  bade  me  Julia  tell, 
Her  Alvo  blest  her  when  he  fell!" 

Alternate  to  his  wife  and  child, 
He.  turn'd  his  gaze  with  laughter  wild, 
As  he  were  blest  to  find  them  share 
The  horrors  doom'd  himself  to  bear. 
"  Fiend  of  the  Rocks  !  1  find  at  last 
Thy  curse  indeed  upon  us  past ; 
But  why  so  kind  as  spare  me  one 
Who  yet  may  bless  me  as  my  son  ? 
Take  Aldimer,  that  we  may  boast 
Of  all  we  are  unblest  the  most !" 

While  thus  he  madly  speaks,  his  eye 
Is  turn'd  upon  a  packet  nigh  ; 
He  raises, — reads  the  fatal  scroll, — 
What  agonies  convulse  his  soul  ! 


(          34          ) 

"  Now  feel  the  pangs  by  Uthwold  felt 
For  Alvo  when  in  vain  he  knelt! 
No  son  to  me  thy  vengeance  left, 
And  mine  has  thee  of  all  bereft, 
For  from  the  rock  where  Alvo  bled 
Of  Aldimer  shall  roll  the  head  !" 

His  hand  upon  his  sword  was  laid,— 
Another  moment  and  the  blade 
His  bleeding  spirit  would  have  freed ; 
But  see,  as  if  the  frantic  deed 
Of  madden'd  anguish  to  oppose, 
The  dead  before  his  eyes  arose, 
Young  Aldimer  from  Uthwold  springs, 
And  laughing  to  his  father  clings, 
And  to  Corinna  Maurice  flies 
Again  to  bless  a  mother's  eyes, 
And  Alvo's  lips  again  repeat 
The  words  of  love  at  Julia's  feet, 
"  My  Julia  !  my  belov'd  one  !  see 
Thy  Alvo  lives,  and  lives  for  thee  !" 

Uthwold  alone  who  calmly  eyes 
Their  bursts  of  rapture  and  surprise, 
On  Alvo  calls — "  To  these  explain 
How  thou  and  Maurice  met  again." 

Around  him  all  attentive  clung, 
And  on  his  accents  breathless  hung. 


(         35          ) 

"  Condemn'd  to  die, — in  fetters  bound 
I  lay,  while  stalk'd  the  guard  around, 
When  suddenly  I  felt  a  shock 
That  made  the  earth  beneath  me  rock. 
A  form  unearthly  met  my  sight ; 
Though  dazzled  by  its  shroud  of  light 
I  recognis'd  the  fairy  maid 
Who  led  me  once  to  Julia's  aid. 
She  took  my  hand, — but  where  she  led 
I  cannot  tell,  for  darkness  spread 
Around  me,  till  my  ravish'd  eyes 
Beheld  her  fairy  paradise ; 
All  that  of  earth  is  bright  and  fair 
Was  lovelier  and  brighter  there. 

As  vanished  mine  unearthly  guide 
A  warrior  approach'd  my  side, 
'Twas  Maurice, — in  affection's  grasp, 
His  hand  was  stretclr  d  mine  own  to  clasp, 
But  ere  one  greeting  word  we  spoke 
The  voice  of  song  the  silence  broke. 

AIR. 

'Tis  the  night  the  faiiy  maid 
Weds  again  her  faithless  lord ; 

Love,  on  earth  but  ill  repaid, 
Heie  receives  its  just  reward. 


(          36          ) 

Art  them  ask'd  where  fickle  gales 
Quench  or  kindle  passion's  flame. 

Where  the  pain  of  love  prevails 
O'er  its  bliss,  thou  earth  canst  name, 

Canst  thou  tell  where  love  is  true  ? 

Where  no  pain  alloys  its  bliss  ? 
Know,  if  yet  thou  never  knew, 

In  no  world  but  heav'n  and  this. 


As  on  our  ear  those  accents  came, 
From  form  to  form  a  wreathing  flame 
Was  varied,  and  at  last  displayed 
The  temple  of  the  fairy  maid. 
The  gates  of  light  were  open'd  wide, 
Disclosing  at  the  fairy's  side 
A  warrior  arm'd,  whose  mien  and  face, 
Declared  of  Carodale  the  race. 

He  for  a  moment  on  us  glanc'd, 
Then  beckon'd,  and  we  both  advanced. 

"  Behold  me,  Carodale,  from  whom 
Our  race  received  its  fatal  doom  ! 
That  doom  is  now  removVl  by  me. 
And  never  more  pronounced  shall  be 


(         37         ) 

Unless, — but'O  !  of  that  beware  ! — 
Of  Carodale  some  future  heir 
Should  break  a  heart  that  lov'd  him  well,- 
His  guerdon  would  be  terrible  ! 

I  caught  thee  sinking  in  the  wave, 
That  mortals  now  believe  thy  grave  ; 
The  spark  of  life  was  wav'ring  still, 
1  dipt  thee  in  the  sacred  rill, 
Whose  inspiration  lends  to  me 
The  bloom  of  immortality. 

Return  to  earth, — if  there  thou  find 
A  heart  to  love  and  thee  resign'd, 
Requite  it  well,  as  thou  wouldst  shun, 
The  curse  I  brought  thy  race  upon." 

He  ceas'd,  and  vanish'd  with  his  bride,- 
The  temple  in  a  blazing  tide 
Descending,  like  a  river  spread, 
When,  to  enwrap  the  flaming  bed. 
Around  ten  thousand  thousand  flowers 
Were  scatter'd  in  ambrosial  showers. 

To  music's  lulling  sway  resign'd, 
In  slumber  we  were  soon  reclin'd, 
And  when  awake  we  look'd  around, 
No  scenes  but  those  of  earth  we  found. 


(          38          ) 

Alone  we  in  a  bark  were  riding 

That,  o'er  the  stream  as  swiftly  gliding, 

Scarce  left  upon  its  placid  face 

A  dimple's  momentary  trace ; 

And  as  we  sprung  upon  the  shore 

It  sunk,  perhaps  to  rise  no  more. 

Towards  the  rocks  we  rais'd  our  eye, 
And  thought  some  object  mov'd  on  high; 
As  clamb'ring  up  the  rocks  we  flew, 
My  father's  voice  I  heard  and  knew. 

"  No — child,  in  vain  revenge  demands. 
Thy  guiltless  blood  at  Uthwold's  hands. 
Live,  cherub  live,  again  to  bless 
A  father  with  thy  dear  caress  ! 
Yes,  he  again  shall  clasp  a  son 
Who  none  has  left  to  me — Oh  none !" 

"  Yes,  I  am  left  to  thee  !"  I  cried,— 
O  need  I  tell  what  pass'd  beside  ? 

"  As  to  the  mountain's  foot  we  came 
Flash'd  on  the  rocks  a  vivid  flame, 
And,  shooting  through  the  torrent's  flood. 
It  swept  away  each  streak  of  blood. 
Some  soldiers  near  attract  mine  eyes, 
IH  whom  the  guards  I  recognise 


(          39         ) 

Who  watch'd  me  in  my  captive  hour ; 
They  tell  that  an  unearthly  power 
Had  led  them  where  this  sudden  light 
Again  restor'd  them  to  their  sight, 
Which  from  the  hour  had  been  denied. 
I  left  them  with  my  fairy  guide. 

"  Can  Carodale  again  embrace 
The  heirs  of  his  illustrious  race, 
And  yet  deny  what  T  demand, 
His  friendship,  and  his  daughter's  hand  ?" 

"  By  Alvo  both  shall  be  possest, 
And  with  them  may  he  long  be  blest. 
Stern  Uthwold,  why  should  darkness  now: 
Still  wrap  her  mantle  o'er  thy  brow  ? 
Would  I  a  moment  might  command 
The  fairy  lady's  magic  wand, 
If  that  to  kindness  might  subdue 
The  heart  whose  friendship  once  I  knew  !" 

Who  suddenly  among  them  stands 
Surprise  and  awe  that  thus  commands  ? 
All  bend  but  one  their  king  to  hail — 
;;  Rise,  valiant  lord  of  Carodale, 
1  trust  that  now  thy  sword  may  rest, 
So  long  my  kingdom's  prop  confest. 
Denied  myself  a  lineal  heir 
His  father's  diadem  to  wear. 


(          40          ) 

As  my  adopted  heir  I  own 
The  son  of  him  who  brav'd  my  throne. 
But  now  before  me  deigns  to  bend, 
A  subject,  and  a  faithful  friend." 

Their  glad  acclaims  applausive  ring, 
;;  Long  live — long  live  our  noble  king!" 
And  even  Uthwold  with  the  rest 
On  bended  knee  his  king  confest. 

"  My  bravest,  noblest  foe,  arise, 
'Tis  said  that  once  to  friendship's  ties 
Thy  heart  and  Carod  ale's  were  given, — 
Say  are  those  ties  forever  riven  ? 
Say  if  you  will  be  never  more 
The  friends  that  you  have  been  before  ?" 

His  arms  extended  Uthwold  threw, 
And  Carodale  to  clasp  him  flew, 
While  Alvo  and  his  Julia  smil'd 
To  see  their  fathers  reconcil'd. 


END  OF  THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ROCKS. 


<          41          ) 

A  FATHER'S  NAME ; 


A    MONODY, 


A  FATHER'S  NAME  !  From  infant  silence  first, 
Imperfect,  when  our  childish  accents  burst, 
As  to  the  parent  knee  we  fondly  clung, 
Around  him  while  our  little  arms  were  flung, 
As  we  reclin'd  our  heads  upon  his  breast, 
While  to  his  manly  brow  our  lips  were  prest, 
The  earliest  accent  from  those  lips  that  came 
Was  breath'd  to  bless  him  with  a  FATHER'S  NAME, 

A  FATHER'S  NAME  !  Ah !  you  who  can  bestow 
That  name,  not  all  its  value  can  you  know, 
Nor  with  what  agony  the  heart  is  riven 
Of  him  by  whom  it  can  no  more  be  given ; 
Too  blest  yourselves  to  tell  the  orphan's  fate, — 
His  bosom's  void, — his  feelings  desolate, 
To  find  that  none  remains  from  him  to  claim 
What  he  were  blest  to  give, — A  FATHER'S  NAME  ! 

A  FATHER'S  NAME  !  and  must  we  to  the  tomb 
Consign  it  with  him  ?  Is  there  none  in  whom 


(          42          ) 

We  still  may  claim  a  father  and  a  friend  ? 
Thou  Father  of  the  fatherless  !  we  bend 
To  Thee,  Oh  God  !  Ours  is  the  orphan's  right, 
Which  Thou  wilt  answer,  tho'  the  world  may  slight 
Though  all  beside  be  deaden'd  to  the  claim, 
Our  God  will  not  reject  a  FATHER'S  NAME. 

A  FATHER'S  NAME,  Oh  !  may  we  offer  Thee  I 
May  thine  a  father's  care  toward  us  be  ! 
Our  father  lov'd  us — Oh!  that  we  may  find 
In  Thine  a  father's  love  remains  behind  ; 
A  love  whose  smile  shall  brighten  our  career 
On  earth,  and  waft  our  spirits  to  the  sphere 
Where  we  through  immortality  may  claim 
In  his,  and  in  our  God's,  a  FATHER'S  NAME, 


43 


THE  ORPHAN'S  DREAM 


AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED  TO  THE  AUTHOR'S 
ADOPTED  FATHER. 


And  dreams  in  their  developement  have  breath, 
And  tears,  and  tortures,  and  the  touch  of  joy. 

BYROX 


HE  died, — would  he  had  been  allow'd 

To  bless  his  orphan  ere  he  died ! 
Would  that,  while  I  had  weeping  bow'd 

An  only  parent's  bed  beside, 
His  hand  upon  my  bending  head 

"W  ith  touch  endearing  might  have  prest, 
While  he  these  words  departing  said, 

"  My  child!  may  thou  in  God  be  blest!" 
A  father's  dying  blessing  might, 

Perhaps,  have  found  avail  on  high, 
And  from  my  mind  had  chas'd  the  night 

In  which  I  now  am  doom'd  to  sigh. 
But  sudden  was  his  spirit's  wing, 

As  too  impatient  for  the  skies, 


(          44          ) 

One  short  farewell  to  earth  to  fling, 
Before  it  should  to  God  arise. 

I  lov'd  him — needs  it  to  be  told  ? 

If  mine  had  been  a  heart  of  steel, 
It  none  the  less  had  been  control'd 

By  what  the  veriest  wretch  must  feel. 
I  lov'd  him,  and  he  lov'd  me  well. 

I  weep  as  I  remember  this, 
Yet  in  those  tears  I  cannot  tell 

If  there  be  more  of  grief  or  bliss. 

As  o'er  the  corpse  belov'd  I  hung 

I  gaz'd  and  gaz'd ;  'twas  sad  but  sweet 
It  seenv  d  the  seraphs,  whom  among, 

His  spirit  went  its  God  to  meet, 
Returning  with  him  home  to  heaven 

Had  left  some  charm  of  heav'n  behind. 
Which  to  the  earthly  form  was  given, 

That  once  his  spirit  had  enshrin'd. 
I  gaz'd  and  gaz'd — I  could  not  weep, 

I  could  not  think  that  it  was  death ; 
It  seem'd  so  like  a  placid  sleep, 

I  watch'd  for  his  returning  breath. 
I  gaz'd  and  gaz'd, — corruption  came, 

And  all  his  beauty  from  him  swept ; 
Then  death  too  well  avow'd  his  claim. 

And  then  indeed  I  wept — I  wept!-— 


(         45         ) 

And  yet  I  turn'd  not  from  him, — no, 

I  gaz'd  and  gaz'd, — my  tears  fell  fast ; 
And  well  it  might  have  bid  them  flow 

To  think  that  then  I  look'd  my  last! 
I  gaz'd  and  gaz'd — my  tears  were  o'er, — 

I  know  not  why  I  felt  so  calm, 
Unless  some  angel  bow'd  to  pour 

Upon  my  bleeding  spirit  balm. 

They  came  to  take  away  the  bier ; — 

They  pray'd, — 1  know  not  what  they  said. 
But  with  my  heart  I  pray'd  sincere  : — 

They  paus'd,  and  then  I  turn'd  my  head 
Behind, — I  saw  them  from  the  place 

The  coffin  of  my  father  taking, — 
I  ruslrd  away, — I  hid  my  face, — 

I  wept  as  if  my  heart  were  breaking. 

When  last  beside  a  bier  I  trod, 

My  father's  hand  in  mine  was  clasp'd, 
But  as  we  bore  him  to  the  sod 

Whose  hand  was  that  the  orphan's  grasp'd  ? 
My  brothers  all  were  in  the  grave, 

None  of  my  kindred  were  more  near 
Than  he  who  to  my  sister  gave 

His  name : — beside  my  father's  bier 
He  led  me. — Thoughts  within  me  rose 

That  now  I  am  asham'd  to  tell, 


(         46          ) 

Fve  conquer'd  them,  but  heaven  knows 

I  had  to  struggle  with  them  well. 
I  wish'd  my  father's  bier  mine  own ; 

My  lot  was  ever  so  unblest, 
From  all  the  ills  that  here  are  known 

I  wish'd  within  his  grave  to  rest. 
I  e'en  for  death  a  prayer  could  breathe, 

Sweet  heav'n,  forgive  the  impious  prayer! 
Submissive  now  I  bend  beneath 

Whatever  I  am  dooirfd  to  bear: 
Hereafter  let  me  be  resigned 

However  1  may  be  opprest, 
I  sure  in  other  worlds  shall  find 

That  God  has  will  cl  it  for  the  best. 

We  paus'd  when  we  were  near  the  spot 
Where  many  of  my  kindred  slumber, 

And  then  1  thought  how  soon  my  lot 
Should  add  me  to  the  lifeless  number. 

I  turn'd, — the  sight  I  could  not  brook, 

When  on  his  bier  they  dropt  the  clod ; — 
1  turn'd  again,  to  give  a  look 

When  rose  above  the  heaving  sod. 
And  as  I  stood  in  musing  deep, 

The  thoughts  were  mine  I  may  not  tell ; 
But  they  were  such  I  scarce  could  weep 

For  him  whom  I  had  lov'd  so  well. 


<          47          ) 

They  call'd  me  from  my  father's  grave, 

I  left  it  tearless  and  serene : 
But  first  a  backward  glance  I  gave 

For  memory's  eye  to  sketch  the  scene. — 

I  came  where  late  my  father  s  bier 

Had  in  our  joyless  dwelling  stood ; 
I  struggled  with  the  bursting  tear, 

And  check'd  the  torrent  while  I  could ; 
In  vain  I  check'd  it  as  it  gush'd, 

It  but  awhile  restrained  was  kept, 
Then  forth  at  once  resistless  rush'd, 

And  like  a  very  babe  I  wept. — 

I  could  a  something  every  day 

Connected  with  his  memory  find. 
What  he  was  wont  to  do  or  say 

To  send  again  athwart  my  mind : 
And  when  upon  it  turn'd  mine  eye, 

My  hands  my  throbbing  brow  would  press, 
And  I  with  heav'n-ward  glance  would  cry, 

"  My  father!  I  am  fatherless!" 

Ye  who  like  me  have  dearly  learn'd 
The  orphan's  feelings,  well  ye  know 

His  desolate  bleeding  heart  is  turn'd 
To  all, — to  stranger, — or  to  foe, 

As  he  would  say,  "  Am  I  not  now 


(          48          ) 

An  orphan, — friendless, — fatherless ! 
Then  tell  me,  tell  me,  wilt  not  thou 

With  yet  a  father's  kindness  bless  1" 
Though  every  one  may  be  beside 

Unconscious  of  the  mute  appeal, 
By  God  it  will  not  be  denied, 

For  He  the  orphan's  heart  will  heal. — 

'Twas  night — Our  friends  had  left  us  all ; 

We  were  alone,  the  orphan'd  three  ; 
I  thought  if  it  should  so  befal 

I  might  my  father's  spirit  see, 
It  would  not  be  a  sight  to  fear, 

For  this  is  what  full  well  I  knew, 
He  ever  held  his  child  so  dear 

For  harm  he  would  not  seek  my  view. 
As  thus  I  thought,  I  turn'd  mine  eyes 

Where  late  his  own  had  on  me  smil'd : 
As  if  I  thought  to  see  him  rise 

Again  to  smile  upon  his  child. 

Upon  my  pillow  lay  my  head, 

It  was  to  me  a  lonely  place ; 
A  father  once  had  shar'd  my  bed, 

Reclining  in  his  child's  embrace ; 
"But  where  thy  bed  of  slumber  now, 

My  father !  Death  embraces  thee ! 
My  God,  may  I  not  hope  that  Thou 

Wilt  now  the  orphan's  father  be  ? 


No  other  father  now  is  mine, 

Then  leave  me  not  quite  fatherless ; 
But  lend  a  father's  name  in  Thine, 

The  dearest  that  my  lips  can  bless !" 
There  came  no  answer  to  my  prayer, 

My  mind  to  evil  thoughts  was  left ; 
I  felt  me  in  my  dark  despair 

Of  God,  as  of  my  sire,  bereft! 
Religion !  thy  resplendent  wing 

Has  chas'd  away  the  clouds  between, 
And  now  I  hail  my  God,  my  King, 

My  Father,  with  a  heart  serene. — 

I  pray'd, — my  prayer  was  deep  and  wild;- 

I  closM  mine  eyes,  and  then  I  thought 
The  father's  image  to  his  child 

Perhaps  in  slumber  might  be  brought. 
I  clos'd  mine  eyes, — I  slept, — for  even 

A  grief  like  mine  must  to  the  power 
Of  sleep,  as  that  of  death  be  given-1- 

I  slept,  and  in  my  slumbering  hour 
A  scene  was  sketched  by  fancy's  wand, — 

A  scene  I  never  can  forget, 
While  memory  can  aught  command 

Of  what  my  past  career  has  met. 

I  saw  my  father  in  his  shroud, 
He  lay  extended  on  a  bed  ; 


(          50          ) 

I  look'd  to  heav'n, — I  wept  aloud, — 

I  bent  to  kiss  the  icy  dead ! — 
My  rising  glance  around  extends, 

In  vain  mine  eyes  around  me  swim ; 
It  seem'd  my  sisters, — kinsmen, — friends, 

Had  left  me  all  alone  with  him ; 
Had  left  me  all  alone  forever 

Beside  my  father's  corpse  to  kneel ! — 
I  felt  so  desolate — O  never 

What  then  I  felt  may  others  feel!— 

0  thou — (whose  name,  tho5  breath'd  not  here, 
Is  written  on  the  grateful  heart 

From  which  thy  lov'd  remembrance  ne'er 

In  good  or  evil  shall  depart,) 
What  sudden  joy  illum'd  mine  eyes, 

And  from  my  heart  what  horrors  fled, 
As  with  a  cry  of  wild  surprise 

I  saw  thee,  when  I  turn'd  my  head  ! 

1  saw  thee  enter  in, — and  why 

I  knew  not, — smiles  were  on  thy  face ; 
The  cause  was  less  to  smile  than  sigh 
At  such  a  time  in  such  a  place. 

My  heart  almost  to  bursting  beat, 
I  rush'd, — I  seiz'd  thee  by  the  hand, 

I  threw  me  weeping  at  thy  feet, 
I  scarce  could  utterance  command, 


(          51          ) 

"  Nay,  I  am  not  an  orphan  quite. 

I  claim  in  thee  a  father  still ! 
I  yield  to  thee  a  father's  right, — 

A  fathers  part  thou  wilt  fulfil !" 
Thy  lips  my  hand  impassioned  prest : — 

Thine  arms  to  raise  me  open  flew 
1  sprung,  and  with  a  sobbing  breast 

My  head  upon  thy  bosom  threw. 
I  heard — (for  sleep  unseals  mine  ear !) 

As  prest  thy  lips  my  throbbing  brow, 
The  words  I  was  most  blest  to  hear, 

"  Poor  boy!  I  am  thy  father  now!" 

I  pointed  to  my  father's  bed, 

I  saw  thee  grasp  his  icy  hand ; — 
I  started. — at  thy  touch  the  dead 

Arose  before  our  eyes  to  stand ! 
He  spoke, — "  No  longer  weep  for  me. 

My  son.  as  one  of  life  bereft ; 
They  say  that  I  am  dead. — but  see, 

Thy  father  yet  to  thee  is  left!" 

And  then  thou  saidst,  "  For  this  I  smil'd. 
When  in  this  gloomy  hall  I  came : 

I  knew  the  father  for  his  child 
Existence  would  again  reclaim : 

1  knew  to  him  thy  filial  sighs 
Would  be  reanimating  breath, 


(         52         ) 

And  ev'ry  tear  that  left  thine  eyes, 
Would  melt  the  talisman  of  death!" 

1  could  not  speak  while  standing  near 

The  dead  who  thus  a  life  could  borrow, 
And  yet  I  was  not  hush'd  by  fear, 

My  thoughts  alone  were  thoughts  of  sorrow ! 
He  seem'd  to  have  return'd,  with  all 

The  pangs,  that  in  his  life's  decline 
Nigh  tempted  me,  on  death  to  call 

To  free  him  from  his  painful  shrine. 

Ere  he  had  died  I  gave  not  way 

To  thoughts  that  now  I  dar'd  attend, 

But  now  I  could  not  help  but  pray, 
That  death  again  his  pains  would  end. 

His  hand  he  on  my  shoulder  laid ; 

I  felt  it  far  more  heavily 
Than  when  in  life,  his  steps  to  aid, 

He  lean'd  his  tott'ring  limbs  on  me. 
I  sunk  as  crush'd  beneath  the  weight, 

And  as  I  sunk  my  slumbers  broke  ; 
I  look'd  around  all  desolate, 

Alone,  in  darkness,  I  awoke. 
I  look'd  as  if  the  scene  to  view, 

That  I  had  witness'd  in  my  sleep ; 
And  as  around  my  glance  I  threw 

On  darkness,  I  began  to  weep : 


(         53         > 

Yet  why  I  wept  I  cannot  say. 

I  wept  not  for  his  vanished  track ; 
Not  for  creation's  wide  array 

One  moment  would  I  call  him  back, 
And  bring  his  spirit  from  the  sphere 

Where  now  it  is  in  bliss  enthron'd, 
Again  to  writhe  in  anguish  here, 

Where  it  so  long  imprisoned  groan'd. 

And  what  was  pleasing  in  my  dream 

To  find  untrue  I  did  not  fear, 
For  thee  I  thought  I  might  esteem 

As  if  thou  wert  my  father  dear  : 
I  thought  perhaps  it  might  be  so 

Thy  heart  would  as  a  father's  love  me ; 
And  none  a  fathers  love  who  know, 

I  then  should  think  were  blest  above  me. 
I've  offer'd  thee  a  father's  name, 

A  name  that  thou  hast  not  rejected ; 
And  1  were  happy  in  the  claim, 

Were  I  by  all  beside  neglected. — 

I  deem  not  in  my  dream  was  aught 

That  from  unearthly  cause  might  spring, 

The  tenor  of  the  waking  thought 
Directed  slumb'ring  fancy's  wing ; 

Yet  could  that  dream  such  thoughts  inspire, 
As  if  alone  from  heav'n  it  came. 
E  2 


(          54          ) 

To  soothe  my  anguish  for  my  sire, 

And  guide  me  to  transfer  the  name.* 
It  checked  me  for  the  ingrate  tear, 

When  it  the  dread  event  display'd, 
Could  weeping  call  him  from  the  bier 

Where  1  had  wept  to  see  him  laid ; 
It  told  me  who  deserv'd  the  best 

The  name  I  once  to  him  had  given ; 
Thus  thinking,  I  at  times  confest 

The  thought  that  it  had  come  from  heaven* 

My  mind  too  on  the  words  would  dwell, 

That  bade  me  weep  for  him  no  more, 
As  one  whom  life  had  bid  farewell, 

And  then  I  bade  my  tears  be  o'er. 
My  father  lives  in  worlds  of  bliss, 

He  bends  from  heav'n  to  bless  his  son? 
And,  ingrate!  shall  a  tear  for  this 

Be  shed  again  ?  Not  one! — not  one! — 

My  sister  has  a  lovely  child, 

A  little,  prattling,  cherub  boy ; 
He  came,  and  laugh'd  his  dark  eyes  wild, 

And  dimpled  his  fair  cheek  with  joy ; 
Where  is  my  grand-papa  ?  he  said  ; 

He  sought  him  in  the  chamber,  where 
Had  stood  my  father's  dying  bed, 

And  wonder'd  not  to  find  him  there. 


They  told  him  he  was  far  away, 

His  home  was  in  a  happy  place, 
And  there  we  all  some  future  day 

Should  go  to  see  my  father's  face. 
"  Yes,  we  shall  go?"  Exclaim' d  the  boy, 

"  To  see  him  in  his  home  up  high!" 
He  smiPd, — it  was  a  thought  of  joy 

To  him, — and  tell  me,  sisters,  why 
We  smile  not  as  that  cherub  smil'd. 

And  in  that  blissful  thought  forget^ 
As  well  as  did  that  artless  child, 

The  transient  parting  to  regret  ?— 

0  thou  adopted  by  my  heart, 

And  it  would  seem,  by  heav'n,  to  be 
My  father ! — such  indeed  thou  art 

By  all  a  father's  love  to  me  ; 
By  all  the  kindness  thou  hast  shown 

To  one  to  whom  but  few  are  kind. 
By  this  thou  art  my  father  known, 

Nor  nature's  ties  could  stronger  bind. 
Though  much  unkindness  I  have  borne 

From  others  since  my  father  died  ; 
From  looks  of  anger  or  of  scorn, 

Though  tearful  oft  I  turn  aside ; 
Though  many  a  day  to  come,  perchance, 

Mine  eyes  must  shrink  from  eyes  unkind, 

1  reck  not  for  it,  in  thy  glance 

While  I  a  father's  love  can  find ! 


(          56          ) 

My  heart  was  glad  when  dawn'd  the  year 

Whose  rapid  wing  has  now  departed, 
I  thought  not  for  a  moment,  ere 

Its  close,  I  should  be  broken  hearted ! 
I  thought  not  that  before  the  day 

Returned,  I  was  so  glad  to  see, 
None  would  be  left  to  whom  to  say 

"  My  father!"  Save  my  God  and  Thee! 
My  God  and  Thee!  Shall  I  repine, 

Who  can  in  each  a  father  hail! 
While  God  and  Thou  as  yet  are  mine 

Shall  sorrow  more  than  joy  prevail  ? 
No, — Let  me  hail  this  dawning  year 

As  gladly  as  I  hail'd  the  last; 
Perhaps  it  brings  in  its  career 

A  brighter  fortune  than  the  past ; 
But  if  destruction  ride  its  wing 

And  strip  me  as  it  flies,  of  all 
That  brightness  on  my  lot  can  fling, 

Nor  leave  one  blessing  mine  to  call, 
So  be  it,  then, — I  will  not  be 

Impatient  of  the  heav'nly  will, 
W7hile  yet  allow'd  in  God  and  Thee 

To  hail  a  friend  and  father  still! 

Thou  Father  of  the  Fatherless! 

O  may  this  year  upon  its  wing ; 
As  I  would  bless  thee,  thee  to  bless, 

Whatever  best  can  glad  thee  bring : 


(         57         ) 

Nor  this  alone, — may  ev'ry  year 

Its  choicest  blessings  on  thee  shower. 
Till  to  a  better,  brighter  sphere 

To  waft  thee  shall  arrive  the  hour ; 
Then  at  the  portals  of  the  skies, 

O  may  my  spirit  thine  embrace, 
And  lead  thee  where  my  father's  eyes 

Behold  his  blest  Redeemer's  face ; 
There  may  our  spirits  dwell  with  him 
And  all  beside  we  value  here, 
Among  the  radiant  cherubim 

To  celebrate  the  endless  year. 

JANUARY  IST,  1827. 


(          58          ) 

THE  MINSTREL  BOY. 


THE  very  thoughts  which  were  passing  in  the  mind  of  the 
author,  at  the  time  of  writing  the  "  Minstrel  Boy,"  are  undis- 
guisedly  exprest  in  that  Poem  ;  and  more  freely,  perhaps,  than 
they  would  have  been,  had  he  expected  that  the  effusions  of 
his  pen  would  be  exposed  to  the  public  eye  ;  which  he  could 
not  imagine,  at  a  time  that  there  was  not  even  one  well  informed 
person,  to  whom  his  poetical  pretensions  were  known.  How 
ever,  he  submits  it  as  it  is  to  the  public,  as  none  of  his  friends 
have  advised  the  suppression  of  any  part  ;  but  not  without 
some  apprehension  that  come  passages  may  be  construed  as 
expressive  of  impatience  under  the  dispensations  of  heaven, 
as  at  the  time  of  wi-iting  it,  he  was  peculiarly  unhappy,  and 
too  deficient  in  submission  to.  and  confidence  in,  his  Creator, 


1. 

AND  am  I  doom'd  to  be  denied  forever, 
The  blessings  that  to  all  around  are  given  ? 

And  shall  those  links  be  reunited  never 

That  bound  me  to  mankind,  till  they  were  riven 

In  childhood's  day  ?  Alas,  how  soon  to  sever 
From  social  intercourse,  the  doom  of  heaven 

Was  past  upon  me  !  and  the  hope  how  vain, 

That  the  decree  may  be  recaPd  again! 


(         59         ) 

2. 
Amid  a  throng  in  deep  attention  bound, 

To  catch  the  accents  that  from  others  fall, 
The  flow  of  eloquence — the  heav'nly  sound 

BreathM  from  the  soul  of  melody,  while  all 
Instructed  or  delighted  list  around, 

Vacant  unconsciousness  must  me  enthral ! 
I  can  but  watch  each  animated  face, 
And  there  attempt  th'  inspiring  theme  to  trace. 

3. 
Unheard,  unheeded  are  the  lips  by  me, 

To  others  that  unfold  some  heav'n-born  art;—- 
And  melody — Oh  dearest  melody ! 

How  had  thine  accents,  thrilling  to  my  heart, 
Awaken'd  all  its  strings  to  sympathy, 

Bidding  the  spirit  at  thy  magic  start ! 
How  had  my  heart  responsive  to  the  strain, 
Throb'd  in  love's  wild  delight,  or  soothing  pain ! 

4. 
In  vain — alas,  in  vain  !  thy  numbers  roll — 

Within  my  heart  no  echo  they  inspire  ; 
Though  form'd  by  nature  in  thy  sweet  control 

To  melt  with  tenderness,  or  glow  with  fire, 
-Misfortune  clos'cl  the  portals  of  the  soul, 

And  till  an  Orpheus  rise  to  sweep  the  lyre 
That  can  to  animation  kindle  stone, 
To  me  thy  thrilling  power  must  be  unknown. 


(          60          ) 

5. 
Yet  not  that  every  portal  of  the  mind 

Is  clos'd  against  me,  I  my  lot  deplore ; 
Although  debar'd  by  destiny  unkind 

From  one  that  never  shall  be  open'd  more, 
Still  from  my  lot  at  times  relief  I  find, 

When  science,  I  thy  temple  stand  before, 
Whose  portal  thou  hast  open'd,  to  my  sight ; 
The  gems  displaying  there  enshrin'd  in  light. 

6. 
Blest  Science!  but  for  thee  what  were  I  now  ? 

Denied  the  rights  of  man,  as  to  employ 
Those  rights  incapable — mankind,  if  thou 

Hadst  not  aris'n  the  barrier  to  destroy, 
No  human  blessings  wrould  to  me  allow  ; 

The  sensual  pleasures  which  the  brutes  enjoy 
Alone  were  mine,  than  brutes  a  nobler  name 
Entitled  only  by  my  form  to  claim  ! 

7. 
Friends  of  misfortune's  race,  whose  heart  and  hand 

Are  never  clos'd  against  affliction's  prayer, 
To  heathens  can  your  charity  expand  ! 

Will  you  to  them  the  gospel  tidings  bear  ? 
And  yet  neglect  your  own,  your  native  land  ? 

O  shall  the  gospel  be  a  stranger  there  ? 
Behold  the  Deaf  and  Dumb!  W^hat  heathens  need 
More  eloquently  for  your  aid  can  plead  ? 


8. 
Strangers  to  God ! — And  shall  they  still  be  so  ? 

Will  you  not  lift  a  hand  the  veil  to  rend — 
Their  intellectual  eyes  to  heaven  throw, 

And  lead  them  to  a  father  and  a  friend  1 
Will  you  not  snatch  them  from  the  gulfs  of  woe, 

To  which  they  else  unrescued  must  descend  ? 
O  save  them !  save  them !  that  the  Deaf  and  Dumb 
May  bless  3-011  in  this  world,  and  in  the  world  to 
come! 

9. 
Spirit  of  philanthropy !  thou  hast  smil'd 

Where  the  attempt  already  has  been  made, 
To  cultivate  the  mind's  deserted  wild ; 

Though  eloquence  were  pow'rless  to  persuade. 
Xone  can  compare  the  unenlighten'd  child 

With  those  who  have  already  known  thine  aid. 
But  in  a  difference  so  wide  must  feel 
A  deep,  an  irresistible  appeal. 

10. 

Tone  can  behold  how  eagerly  they  cling 

Around  the  new  creator  of  their  mind, 
Who,  the  Prometheus  of  the  anxious  ring, 

The  hallow'd  flame  in  learning's  fane  enshrin'd 
Kindles  within  them,  yet  refuse  to  bring 

Wliere  they  with  these  may  equal  blessings  find, 


(          62          ) 

The  numbers  who  unaided  still  demand 
Those  blessings  from  a  benefactor's  hand. 

11. 
Neglect  you  will  not  suffer  to  efface 

The  work  that  your  benevolence  began  ; 
Nor  bid  them  grovel  still  in  thraldom  base, 

Who  claim  from  you  the  faculties  of  man ; 
You  will  not  if  you  love  the  human  race, 

You  will  not,  cannot,  for  no  Christian  can, 
In  whom  the  God  of  Christians  has  imprest 
This  truth, — in  blessing  we  indeed  are  blest  ! 

12. 
Would  that  of  eloquence  I  own\l  the  might, 

To  paint  the  feelings  in  my  breast  enshrin'd, 
For  those  enwrapt  in  the  Cimmerian  night 

Whose  darkness  had  encanopied  my  mind. 
If  Science  on  me  had  not  stream'd  her  light, 
And  rais'd  me  to  a  level  with  mankind ! 
When  I  my  happier  lot  with  their's  compare. 
Can  1  to  feel  or  plead  for  them  forbear  ? 

13. 
Of  life  to  cheer  my  desolated  scene, 

The  rays  of  friendship  beam  but  for  a  while ; 
"  Like  angel  visits  few  and  far  between," 

Are  those  my  dreary  moments  that  beguile ; 


(         63         ) 

And  oft,  alas,  misfortunes  intervene. 

To  tear  me  from  a  friend's  endearing  smile ; 
But  e'en  in  solitude  the  cultur'd  mind 

Society  within  itself  can  find. 

14. 
The  works  of  genius  lying  at  my  side, 

I  claim  in  Qach  an  ever  welcome  friend, 
From  whose  society,  whatever  betide, 

Misfortunes  have  no  power  my  mind  to  rend  : 
On  whom,  w7hen  human  intercourse  denied, 

I  may  for  rational  delight  depend  ; 
And  till  these  eyes  are  clos'd  in  endless  night. 
1  cannot  be  bereft  of  that  delight. 

15. 
Shall  I  of  utter  loneliness  repine, 

"While  I  with  a  delighted  eye  can  see 
The  spirit  of  genius,  breathing  in  the  line 

That  kindles  with  its  wild  sublimity, 
While  beauty  dazzles  in  the  lay  divine, 

And  pathos  melts  the  soul  to  sympathy. 
And  fancy  wafts  my  thoughts  upon  her  pinions. 
Roving  the  fairy  land  of  her  dominions  ? 

16. 

To  me,  when  beauty's  fingers  lightly  tread 
The  quiv'ring  strings,  no  rapture  they  impart  j 


(         64         ) 

Yet,  melody,  though  to  thine  accents  dead, 
Whose  witchery  had  else  subdu'd  my  heart. 

From  infancy  my  spirit  has  been  led 
In  blissful  thraldom  by  thy  sister  art ; 

Sweet  poetry!  still  shall  it  own  thy  sway, 

Till  on  the  wings  of  death  it  soars  away. 

17. 
Ye  sacred  nymphs,  that  in  Elysium  steep 

The  spirit  form'd  by  nature  for  your  sway ; 
Who  when  their  strings  your  favoured  vot'riee 
sweep, 

The  inspiration  breathe  into  the  lay 
That  fires  the  dead,  and  bids  the  marble  weep. 

Deign  to  illuminate  me  with  a  ray 
That,  though  it  beam  on  a  neglected  lyre, 
May  only  with  the  life  it  cheers  expire. 

18. 
Perhaps  unhonour'd  I  must  live  and  die, 

And  when  the  Minstrel  Boy  is  swept  away, 
His  harp  within  his  grave  unreck'd  shall  lie, 

And  with  his  name  become  oblivion's  prey ; — 
Well,  be  it  so — I  care  not  if  no  eye 

But  thim,  shall  ever  dwell  upon  my  lay, 
Should  thine  embalm  these  pages  with  a  tear 
For  him,  who  had  but  thee  to  value  here. 


(         65         ) 

19. 
O  but  for  thee,  the  hour  that  I  was  born 

I  oft  had  curs'd,  to  agony  consign'd, 
When  from  my  brow  the  wreath  of  health  was  torn^ 

And  pain  a  thorny  coronet  ent\vin'd ; 
\\  hen  writh'd  my  spirit  proud  beneath  the  scorn 

Unmerited,  of  the  ignobler  mind ; 
Or  when  the  demon  Hope  some  bliss  pourtray'd. 
In  laughing  mockery  to  see  it  fade. 

20. 
We  pity  but  should  rather  envy  those 

Who  from  the  influence  of  Hope  are  screen'd, 
\\  ho  bear  not  added  to  their  other  woes, 

The  bitter  mockings  of  that  beauteous  fiend. 
My  heart  no  more  her  fatal  magic  knows, 

But  from  her  merciless  control  is  wean'd ; 
It  clung  to  Hope — it  found  but  torment  there. 
And  now  its  friend,  its  idol  is  despair. 

21. 
Despair  is  no  deceiver — ev'ry  ill 

It  throws  before  anticipation's  view, 
The  hour  of  destiny  I  find  fulfil : 

While  all  that  might  have  blest  in  being  true. 
Has  prov'd  a  falsehood,  and  a  mock'ry  still : 

Then  henceforth  what  have  I  with  Hope  to  do. 


(         66         ) 

But  curse  each  past,  and  fly  each  future  spell. 
That  only  dawns  in  heav'n  to  set  in  hell  ? 

22. 
And  let  me  then  despair — despair  of  all 

Fame,  fortune,  independence,  might  bestow, 
Or  from  the  angel  smile  of  love  might  fall ; 

My  doom  is  fix'd  to  be  a  child  of  woe! 
A  doom  that  heaven  never  shall  recal, 

Till  I  am  rescued  from  this  world  below ; — 
And  then — does  Hope  again  deceive  in  this  ?— 
I — even  1 — may  know  a  ray  of  bliss. 

23. 
Yet  Hope — deluding  demon  as  thou  art, 

And  as  I  know  thee, — to  defy  thy  power 
Is  impotence ; — still  fondly  turns  my  heart 

To  thy  bright  image  of  some  future  hour, 
When  stern  misfortune  from  me  shall  depart, 

Nor  dark  obscurity  around  me  lower, 
And  glory's  wreath  shall  dance  around  a  brow,. 
Encircled  but  with  sorrow's  cypress  now. 

24. 
Not  one  to  love  of  glory  can  be  dead, 

Not  one  but  bends  in  worship  to  its  blazes 
Yet  in  their  guilty  path  I  would  not  tread 

For  whom,  a  bright  memorial  to  raise, 


(          67          ) 

The  flower  of  nations  have  devoted  bled ; 

No — let  me  share  alone  the  bloodless  praise 
By  Avon's  bard,  and  lofty  Milton  won, 
And  Byron,  of  this  age  the  late  departed  sun. 

25. 
Yet  though  I  may  not  be  allow'd  to  claim 

Of  immortality  with  these  a  share ; 
Although  I  may  not  win  the  breath  of  fame 

To  scatter,  on  the  pinions  of  the  air, 
Around  the  world,  the  splendor  of  my  name, 

And  to  posterity  its  echoes  bear, 
Her  vot'ry  from  the  muse  more  pleasures  draws? 
Than  those  that  rest  upon  a  world's  applause. 

26. 
Society  in  solitude  to  win ; 

When  desolate  amid  a  throng  to  stand ; 
From  nothing  to  create  a  world  within, 

And  then,  to  populate  the  faiiy  land, 
To  call  up  beings  that  have  never  been, 

Nor  shall  be,  by  imagination's  wand  ; — 
In  these  the  guerdon  of  the  bard  were  found, 
When  far  beyond  the  reach  of  glory's  sound. 

27. 

And  none  are  more  exquisitely  awrake 
To  nature's  loveliness,  than  those  who  feel 


(          68          ) 

The  inspiration  of  the  muse ; — who  take 

From  her  the  glowing  thoughts  that  as  they 
steal 

Around  the  soul  entranc'd,  a  goddess  make 
Of  nature,  to  whose  shrine  of  beauty  kneel 

The  fond  enthusiasts,  adoring  all 

Within  her  we  may  dread  or  lovely  call. 

28. 
The  terrible  in  nature  is  to  them 

The  beautiful,  and  they  can  with  delight 
Behold  the  tempest,  and  its  wrath  contemn, 

Station'd  upon  some  rock  whose  quiv'ring  height 
Is  by  the  spirit  swept,  whose  diadem 

In  burning  terror  wreaths  the  brow  of  night ; 
While  the  rude  winds  their  cave  of  slumbers  rend. 
And  to  the  loud-voic'd  thunders  answer  send. 

29. 
Yet  Nature,  not  alone  when  stern  and  wild, 

Canst  thou  the  homage  of  the  bard  awaken  ; 
Still  art  thou  worshiped  by  the  muse's  child 

When  thou  thy  throne  of  terrors  hast  forsaken: 
With  darkness  when  thy  brow  is  undefil'd, 

When  scarce  a  leaflet  of  thy  robe  is  shaken 
By  zephyrs,  that  soft  music  murmuring, 
Around  thee  wave  their  aromatic  wing. 


(         69         ) 

30. 
When  first  the  queen  of  night  in  beauty  rides 

That  with  the  glory  of  Apollo  vies, 
One  star  alone  through  heaven's  azure  glides, 

That  when  ten  thousand  thousand  robe  the  skies, 
Pre-eminent  in  beauty  still  presides ; 

To  her  the  lovers  and  the  poet's  eyes 
Are  ever  fondly  turn'd,  to  hail  the  power 
That  smiles  such  loveliness  upon  the  hour. 

31. 
How  often  have  I  watch'd  the  star  of  even, 

When  eyes  of  heaven's  own  ethereal  blue 
Have  follow'd  mine,  to  gaze  upon  the  heaven 

Where  they,  as  on  a  mirror's  face,  might  view 
The  bright  and  beautiful  reflection  given 

Of  their  own  starry  light  and  azure  hue! 
But  she  beholding  night's  resplendent  throne, 
Of  nature's  beauty  thought,  and  not  her  own. 

32. 
I  thought  of  both — if  earth  appear  so  fair, 

How  glorious  the  world  beyond  the  skies! 
And  if  the  forms  that  heav'n-born  spirits  wear, 

Their  earthly  shrines,  so  fascinate  our  eyes 
To  kneel  in  worship  we  can  scarce  forbear, 

And  e'en  to  gaze  on  them  is  paradise, 
O  what  are  those,  who  free  from  earthly  stain, 
Above  yon  azure  realms  in  bloom  immortal  reign! 


(          70          ) 

33. 
Earth!  thou  art  trac'd  in  beauty  by  the  hand 

Of  Him  who  call'd  thee  from  the  deep  profound 
Of  Chaos,  while  angelic  pinions  fan'd 

The  new  creation,  hovering  around 
The  wondrous  work  of  Him,  whose  high  command. 

Where  slumber' d  apathy  and  darkness  frown'd, 
Stream'd  light  and  life,  and  all  the  charms  that 

grace 
With  heaven's  imagery  creation's  face. 

34. 
Earth!  thou  art  lovely — loveliest  in  this — 

By  woman — angel  woman !  thou  art  trod  ; — 
Woman,  the  centre  of  our  ev'ry  bliss  ; 

To  man  the  dearest  boon  receiv'd  from  God .; 
Whom,  if  creation  were  condemn'd  to  miss, 

Chaos  again  his  desolating  rod 
O'er  the  dominion  he  has  lost,  would  sway, 
And  earth,  with  all  her  charms,  become  his  prey. 

35. 
Earth !  thou  art  fair  and  glorious,  but  all 

Thy  beauty  and  thy  glory  are  a  shade, 
That  low  beneath  the  hand  of  time  must  fall : — 

And  Woman !  must  thou  too  in  dust  be  laid  ? 
Ah  no !  the  beauteous  fetters  that  enthral 

Thy  spirit,  only  are  decreed  to  fade ; 


That  spirit,  on  a  seraph's  glowing  wing. 
From  earth  shall  to  its  native  heaven  spring. 

36. 
Thine  earthly  shrine  is  but  thy  prison — still 

Such  loveliness  is  flung  around  thee  here, 
That  as  it  beams  before  mine  eyes,  they  fill 

At  times,  unbidden,  with  the  tremulous  tear. 
And  through  my  bosom  shoots  a  painful  thrill 

To  think  that  aught  so  beautiful — so  dear — 
Should  to  the  hand  of  death  resign  its  bloom, 
A  trophy  to  emvreath  around  the  tomb ! 

37. 
Must  all  then  know  corruption  ? — even  thou* 

My  angel  girl — my  dear — my  blue-ey'd  maid! 
Shall  those  bright  eyes  that  smile  upon  me  now. 

Resign  the  beams  that  oft  have  on  me  play'd 
So  tenderly  ]  Shall  reptiles  kiss  thy  brow. 

Enwreath'd  among  the  tresses,  that  to  shade 
Thy  beauteous  lineaments  around  them  dance. 
Veiling  the  loveliness  which  they  enhance ! 


O  blinded  Infidel !  \vhoe*er  thou  art — 

If  thou  canst  be  an  Infidel  indeed, 
Love's  flame  must  be  extinguished  from  thy  heart, 

Or  love  itself  would  turn  thee  from  thy  creed — 


(         72         ) 

To  thy  belov'd  would  eloquence  impart 

Against  a  fate  so  horrible  to  plead 
As  thou  wouldst  pass  on  them,  and  all  mankind- 
Annihilation  in  the  grave  to  find ! 

39. 
The  soft  confession  trembling  on  the  tongue 

Of  beauty,  when  replying  to  thy  flame — 
The  cherub  infant,  that  around  thee  clung, 

With  innocent  fondness,  lisps  a  father's  name- 
The  friend  whose  heart  in  unison  is  strung 

With  thine,  resigning  to  affection's  claim 
Each  secret  of  his  bosom — are  they  thine  ? — 
The  joys  that  are  not — never  shall  be  mine! 

40. 
What  rapture  in  my  heart  is  ever  glowing, 

When  one  I  meet  who  to  that  heart  is  dear, 
A  smile  of  tenderness  upon  me  throwing, 

Although  his  voice  shall  never  reach  mine  ear! 
But  thou — the  music  of  affection,  flowing 

From  lips  belov'd,  who  art  allow'd  to  hear, 
Since  more  than  me  affection  thee  doth  bless, 
Shall  thy  devotion  to  her  sway  be  less  ? 

41. 

Around  me  when  those  darling  children  cling, 
Belov'd  as  they  were  mine — when  on  my  knee 


(          73          ) 

They  prattle,  and  my  heart  unconscious  wring 
With  the  fond  accents,  that  if  heard  by  me, 

As  they  believe ! — My  tears  resistless  spring 
To  think  how  blest  I  were,  if  that  might  be 

Which  never  shall  be! — While  by  them  carest 

With  all  a  father's  love  they  animate  my  breast. 

42. 
And  sure  no  father  with  an  infant  pair 

So  lovely — so  belov'd — could  cast  his  eye 
Upon  th'  angelic  beauty  which  they  wear, 

Yet  say  that  they  were  born  alone  to  die — 
O  no !  around  them  there  is  thrown  an  air 

Breathing  of  heav'n  and  immortality, 
In  accents,  that  to  marble  hearts  appealing, 
Would  melt  them  with  the  eloquence  of  feeling. 

43. 
It  were  a  deed  of  mercy  in  the  sire 

His  babe  to  strangle,  when  it  first  appears 
In  being,  to  preserve  it  from  the  ire 

Of  stern  misfortune,  through  this  vale  of  tears 
Who  follows  all,  if  in  the  grave  expire 

The  spirit's  consciousness — for  nothing  cheers 
The  darkness  of  our  lot,  when  Hope  denies 
Her  radiant  star — the  beacon  of  the  skies ! 


(         74         ) 

44. 
To  live  is  to  be  wretched — and  to  die 

To  part  with  all  we  love — and  O!  forever! 
Our  only  hope  our  dust  may  mingling  lie 
"Where  death  itself  shall  want  the  power  to 

sever ; 

But  shall  their  smiles  again  address  our  eye, 
To  kindle  rapture  there  1  O!  never,  never! 
Is  this  thy  faith  ?  Art  thou  so  blest  in  this, 
That  thou  canst  mock  the  Christian's  dream  of 
bliss  ? 

45. 
"Were  it  indeed  a  dream,  that  dream  possesses 

What  all  beside  were  pow'rless  to  bestow, 
For  with  the  voice  of  heav'n-born  hope  it  blesses. 

When  we  are  torn  from  all  we  love  below — 
The  wife — the   child — the    friend — whose  dear 
caresses 

We  never  in  this  world  again  shall  know — 
Nor  in  another — if  from  truth  proceed 
The  Atheist's,  and  not  the  Christian's  creed* 

46. 
rSay,  Atheist,  hast  thou  ever  gaz'd  upon 

The  loveliness  of  death,  when  on  the  biei 
Reclin'd  th'  inanimate  pale  form  of  one 

Who  living  lov'd  thee.  and  to  thee  was  dear  ? 


(          75         ) 

O!  sure  while  such  a  scene  beholding,  none 

Could  say,  "  All  that  remains  of  thee  is  here; 
And  ail  that  to  thy  form  its  value  gave, 
Must  with  it  be  extinguished  in  the  grave!" 

47. 
O !  if  thy  faith  were  mine,  and  if  the  doom 

Were  past  upon  me — (Never  may  it  be!) — 
The  lovely — the  angelic  girl,  to  whom 

This  heart  is  giv'n,  bereft  of  life  to  see, 
\\  hat  should  forbid  me  then  upon  her  tomb 

To  end  my  being  and  my  misery  ? 
The  deed  Religion's  voice  forbids  alone, — 
By  those  unreck'cl  who  dare  her  truth  disown. 

48. 
Thy  voice,  Religion !  thine  alone, — controls 

The  frantic  rage  of  anguish,  wrhen  the  car 
Of  death  o'er  bleeding  hearts  triumphant  rolls ; 

Our  eyes  by  thee  directed,  on  the  star 
Of  Hope  are  fix'd, — whose  influence  consoles 

The  mourner,  with  a  glimpse  of  worlds  afar. 
Where  he  \tith  all  he  loves  shall  be  united 
In  bliss  that  cannot  be  alloy'd  or  blighted. 

49. 

My  blue-ey'd  maid !  when  bending  at  the  shrine 
Qf  heav'n,  thy  name  is  wafted  in  my  prayer; 


(         76         ) 

The  dearest  hope  avow'd  to  heav'n  is  thine. 
That  we  may  meet  with  one  another  there ; 

And  if  on  earth  to  ever  call  thee  mine 
Be  rapture  that  to  know  I  must  despair, 

1  in  the  blissful  hope  can  be  resigned 

That  we  shall  in  eternity  be  join'd* 

50. 
My  blue-ey'd  maid!  when  bends  thy  pious  knee 

Wilt  thou  not  think  of  him,  whose  prayers  arise 
That  heaven's  blessings  may  be  shower' d  on  thee. 

To  make  thine  earthly  home  a  paradise, 
Till  death  shall  come,  from  earth  to  set  thee  free, 

And  open  throw  the  portals  of  the  skies  ? 
Wilt  thou  return  my  prayers,  and  on  my  head 
Invoke  the  blessings  I  on  thine  would  shed  ? 

-'  vl»    ••   •  -  **•  -  "  "  '  * 

51. 
The  loveliness  of  earth  we  most  adore 

Something  of  heav'n  when  there  is  in  it  shown ; 
And  beauty  never  claims  our  homage  more 

Than  when  to  heav'n  she  offers  up  her  own; 
For  then  she  seems  to  want  but  wings  to  soar 

With  the  angelic  choir  around  the  throne 
Of  God,  to  whom  their  homage  is  addrest, 
As  hers  on  earth,  amid  their  mansions  blest. 


(      rt      > 

52. 
Thy  voice  angelical  with  mine  to  blend, 

In  unison  adoring  heaven's  King ; 
Together  at  the  throne  of  God  to  bend. 

While  angels  are  around  us  hovering, 
The  fervent  pra}Ters  that  from  our  hearts  ascend 

To  waft  above  the  sky  upon  their  wing, — 
If  aught  might  be  in  terrestrial  bliss, 
To  be  compar'd  with  heav'nly,  it  were  this. 

53. 
And  Hope  would  say  it  shall  not  be  denied 

To  me ; — that  thou  shalt  own  a  kindred  flame; — 
That  in  my  blue-ey'd  maid  an  angel  bride 

The  time  may  come  at  last  for  me  to  claim  ; — 
That  we  shall  kneel  at  one  another's  side, 

Our  words  unutter'd,  but  our  thoughts  the  same. 
Ascending  on  each  others  head  to  call 
The  choicest  blessings  that  from  heav'n  can  fall. 

54. 
O!  dream  of  bliss!  like  every  other  dream 

Of  bliss  that  I  have  cherished,  if  it  fade  ; 
Should  fortune  never  throw  so  bright  a  beam 

Upon  a  lot  so  long  en  wrapt  in  shade  ; 
If  thou  canst  but  return  me  thine  esteem 

For  all  my  love  to  thee,  my  blue-ey'd  maid! 

G2 


If  one  prefer'd  above  me  shall  command 
What  I  may  seek  in  vain — thy  heart  and  hand : 

' 

55. 

Whoever  he  may  be  who  thus  shall  blight 
The  dearest  hopes  that  can  inspire  my  breast, 

On  him  nor  thee  may  aught  of  evil  light, 
But  may  you  be  in  one  another  blest 

As  I  would  have  been  with  thee,  if  I  might 
Have  won  the  angel  bride  by  him  possest, 

And  heard  from  thy  dear  lips  the  music  breathe 

Of  love,  entwining  there  his  blissful  wreath. 

56. 
"  Hove  thee!"—- All  the  charms  of  music  blend 

In  those  endearing  words,  when  from  the  tongue 
Of  blushing  beauty,  gently  they  descend 

To  raise  the  lover,  who  before  her  flung 
Avows  his  flame,  while  trembling  £o  offend, 

Till  by  those  words  assur'd  he  had  not  clung 
To  hope  in  vain ; — who  but,  if  he  had  power, 
Would  to  eternity  prolong  that  hour  ? 

57. 
"Hove  thee!" — Worlds  on  worlds  if  they  were 

mine, 

To  buy  those  accents  should  away  be  thrown  ; 
All  other  melody  1  could  resign, 
Might  1  but  hear  those  tender  words  alone 


(         79         ) 

Warbling  upon  those  rosy  lips  of  thine, 

My  blue-ey'd  maid,  where  music  might  enthrone 
Her  sweetest  magic — oft  repinings  rise 
To  think  that  even  this  my  lot  denies. 

58. 
Yet  why  repine  against  the  will  of  heaven. 

By  erring  man  so  little  understood  ? 
Misfortunes  may  be  found  in  mercy  given 

To  wrork  together  for  our  final  good ; 
And  all  the  blessings  that  from  me  are  riven 

Evils  might  have  accompanied,  that  would 
Upon  my  lot  far  heavier  have  weigh'd 
Than  those  upon  me  that  shall  now  be  laid. 

59. 
Thy  will,  my  God !  Thy  will  be  done,  not  mine. 

For  all  by  Thee  is  order'd  for  the  best ; 
Myself,  mine  all.  I  to  Thy  hands  resign ; 

I  ask  but  that  my  lov'd  ones  may  be  blest 
Here  and  hereafter,  and  with  me  may  join 

In  an  eternity  of  joy  and  rest, 
With  cherubim  and  seraphim  to  bend 
Before  our  God — our  Father — and  our  Friend. 

60. 

The  fetters  of  the  ear  shall  be  unbound, 
And  silence  shall  no  more  the  lips  enthral. 


(          80          ) 

When  the  Archangel's  awful  trump  shall  souncl^ 
Death  from  its  sleep  awakening — when  all 

Shall  at  its  summons  burst  the  trembling  ground, 
With  myriad  voice  replying  to  his  call, 

In  shouts  of  ecstasy,  or  shrieks  of  fear, 

Before  the  bar  of  heaven  to  appear. 

61. 
And  then,  my  blue-ey'd  maid,  may  we  unite 

With  all  we  love  below,  to  hymn  the  praise 
Of  our  Redeemer — O  with  what  delight 

Shall  I  inhale  the  music  of  thy  lays, 
Warbling  with  those  of  cherubim,  while  bright 

Eternal  glories  clothe  us  in  the  blaze 
That  emanates  from  Mercy's  smiling  eye, 
Hov'ring  the  throne  of  the  Almighty  nigh! 

:-  62. 

If  this  may  be — although  we  now  were  torn 
Asunder,  never  more  on  earth  to  meet — 

Or  if  on  earth  thy  pity,  or  thy  scorn, 

Alone  in  recompense  my  love  shall  greet, 

Ev'n  this  may  in  the  blissful  hope  be  borne — 
(O !  be  it  not  as  false  as  it  is  sweet !) 

That  we  shall  meet  in  worlds  where  none  again 

Shall  part,  where  all  shall  love,  and  none  shall 
love  in  vain. 


(          81          ) 

63. 
Thus  far  the  lay,  that  once  her  dear  blue  eyes 

I  fondly  thought  would  dwell  upon ; — but  now 
Their  beauteous  light  on  earth  to  idolize 

Again,  my  destiny  will  not  allow: 
Their  smiles  perhaps  shall  greet  me  in  the  skies, — 

Till  then  in  silence  let  my  feelings  bow : 
The  thoughts  that  now  are  mine,  thou  canst  not 

tell, 

My  Harp !  then  breathe  no  more,  but  bid  her  name 
farewell ! 


(    82    ) 
THE 

GALLANT  HIGHLAND  ROVER. 


RECITATIVE. 

A  CLOUDY  veil  the  orb  conceals 
Above  invisible  that  steals, 
While  here  and  there  some  dim-ey'd  star 
Twinkles  amid  its  darken'd  car : 
From  yonder  balcony  on  high 
An  anxious  maid,  her  eager  eye 
Arpid  the  ^looin  surrounJ1';  _.  t1  -ows, 
For  him  on  whom  her  hopes  repose, 
While  thus  to  her  belcv'd  she  fiings, 
Her  summons,  on  the  breeze's  wings. 

AIR. 
Shall  beauty  weep,  and  valour  sleep; 

Nor  to  defend  arise  ? 
Who  would  not  fly  to  do  or  die, 

If  beauty  were  the  prize  ? 
O!  come,  my  love!  O!  come,  my  love! 

Or  ev'ry  hope  is  over, 
And  I  shall  be  no  bride  for  thee, 

My  Gallant  Highland  Rover ! 


(          83          ) 

RECITATIVE. 

A  father's  voice  the  stern  command 
Without  her  heart  to  yield  her  hand, 
Upon  his  wretched  child  had  past ; — 

To-morrow and  the  die  is  cast! 

But  no — she  trusts  another  hour 

Shall  free  her  from  oppression's  power : 

Nor  vain  her  hope, — for  to  her  lay, 

Ere  its  last  echo  died  away, 

Below,  the  balcony  beside, 

The  voice  of  her  belov'd  replied, — 

AIR. 
I  come,  my  love !  I  come,  my  love ! 

Let  ev'ry  fear  be  over ; 
For  thou  shall  be  a  bride  for  me, 

Thy  Gallant  Highland  Rover. 

RECITATIVE. 

But  hark!  a  sudden  shout  alarms! 
"  Revenge!  Revenge!  to  arms!  to  arms!" 
The  castle  gates  were  open  flung, 
And  forth  a  band  of  warriors  sprung, 
And  quiver'd  many  a  torch's  light 
On  many  a  naked  weapon  bright. 
While  frantic  shouts  of  fury  rise 
The  Rover  fronts  his  rival's  eyes. 
Who  foremost  springs,  and  at  his  side 
The  father  of  the  destin'd  bride. 


(          84          ) 

At  once  the  Rover's  bugle  sound 
A  thousand  echoes  wakes  around ; 
A  moment  more,  and  sword  in  hand 
Appear  his  Gallant  Rover  band, 
While  steals  upon  their  chieftain's  ear, 
The  voice  that  best  he  loves  to  hear — 

AIR. 
The  foe  shall  cower  beneath  the  power 

Confest  our  bosom's  lord ; 
For  from  thy  heart  it  shall  impart 

Its  lightnings  to  thy  sword ; 
And  far  and  wide,  though  havoc  ride 

Around  thee  love  shall  hover, 
To  shield  from  harm  of  hostile  arm, 

My  Gallant  Highland  Rover. 

RECITATIVE. 

Fearful  and  doubtful  prov'd  the  strife 
To  guard — to  crush,  the  Rover's  life  5 
The  torches  scatter'd  on  the  ground 
Gleam'd  faintly  on  the  scene  around, 
But  each  who  mingled  in  the  fight 
Around  him  threw  terrific  light, 
That  in  the  eye  of  fury  play'd, 
And  flash'd  from  each  contending  blade. 
Where'er  the  Rover's  weapon  gleam'd 
Of  hostile  blood  a  torrent  stream'd ; 


But  could  he  act  a  craven's  part 
While  she,  the  lady  of  his  heart, 
Thus  from  her  balcony  addrest 
The  ruling  passions  of  his  breast — 

AIR. 

Now  let  the  foe  the  ardour  know 

The  eye  of  beauty  fires ; 
And  may  its  rage,  more  terrors  wage 

Than  fell  revenge  inspires : 
If  thou  canst  love,  thine  arm  will  prove 

Thou  art  indeed  a  lover. 
For  beauty's  glance  is  on  thy  lance. 

My  Gallant  Highland  Rover. 

RECITATIVE. 

Oft  as  the  rivals  met  and  clos'd 
As  oft  their  followers  interpos'd, 
Till  from  the  rest  they  turn'd  aside 
Where  none  the  combat  might  divide ; 
Not  long  their  strife — the  Rover's  blade 
In  dust  his  rival  grov'ling  laid  ; 
And  from  his  lady's  lips  at  first 
A  shout  of  joy  and  triumph  burst — 
But  foes  her  lover  thronging  near 
Transform  it  to  a  shriek  of  fear : — 
Before  his  band  to  aid  him  rushes 
His  blood  on  many  a  weapon  blushes,— 


(          86          ) 

He  falls  before  his  lady's  eyes, 
Faulters  her  name  belov'd — and  dies. 


AIR. 
I  come,  my  love!  I  come,  my  love! 

I  come  with  thee  to  share 
A  bridal  bed  among  the  dead, 

For  none  shall  part  us  there ! 
I  come,  my  love !  I  come,  my  love ! 

Where  fate's  control  is  over, 
A  bride  to  be,  for  death  and  thee. 

My  Gallant  Highland  Rover. 

RECITATIVE. 

Quiver'd  each  lip  with  horror's  cry, 
And  turn'd  away  each  shudd'ring  eye, 
As  died  the  accents  on  her  tongue 
And  from  the  balcony  she  sprung ; 
One  groan  is  heard,  and  all  is  over, — 
She  lies  beside  her  Highland  Rover. 


(          87          ) 

THE  GRAVE  OF  MARY. 


THE  flame  that  by  disdain  was  check'd 

Rekindled  with  her  dying  breath  5 
The  iiower  she  wither'd  by  neglect 

Reviv'd  beneath  the  hand  of  death  : — 
But  no — that  flame  had  never  died, 

Unquenchable  although  represt ; 
That  flower,  though  to  myself  denied, 

Unseen  was  cherish'd  in  my  breast. 

While  thus  her  ashes  1  adore, 

Not  now  her  votary  she  spurns :        ^ 
The  flame  of  love,  represt  no  more 

By  cold  disdain,  more  ardent  burns ; 
The  flower  of  love  shall  never  fade; — 

The  bleeding  heart  shall  never  vary. 
That  now  a  sacrifice  is  laid 

Upon  the  Grave  of  lovely  Mary. 

Ere  yet  I  bow'd  at  Mary's  feet, 
And  dar'd  the  words  of  passioa  breathe. 

Indulging  hope's  delusion  sweet, 
I  twin'd  a  visionary  wreath  ; 

But  when  my  passion  was  exprest, 
And  no  return  but  scorn  could  find, 


(          88         ) 

Though  hope  was  banish'd  from  my  breast, 
Love  lingering  remain' d  behind. 

And  art  thou  hurl'd  from  beauty's  throne 

Where  thou  couldst  ev'ry  heart  enslave  ? 
That  seat  was  worthy  thee  alone, 

And  now  thy  shrine  is  in  the  Grave ! 
This  heart,  devoted  to  the  dead, 

The  fairest  shall  not  tempt  to  vary, 
For  brighter  charms  than  their's  have  fled. 

To  wither  in  the  Grave  of  Mary. 

Beneath  the  tyranny  of  woe, 

My  lot  is  darkly  overcast ; 
In  all  my  wanderings  below 

Through  pain  and  peril  I  have  past ; 
But  every  ill  I  could  have  borne 

By  destiny  upon  me  laid, 
Jfthou  hadst  not  away  been  torn, 

In  dark  corruption's  arms  to  fade ! 

All  else  I  could  endure — but  this! — 

O!  this  is  more  than  1  can  bear! — 
And  yet  there  beams  a  ray  of  bliss 

Amid  the  darkness  of  despair; 
Though  ev'ry  other  hope  has  flown, 

So  blissful  once — and  ah !  so  airy ! 
One  yet  remains— and  one  alone— 

To  die  upon  the  Grave  of  Mary! 


(         89         ) 
WRITTEN  OX  SEEING 

THE  GRAVE  OF  MARY. 


FAR,  far  from  this  Grave  be  the  footstep  unholy, 

Its  sanctity  that  would  presume  to  invade ! 
By  all  who  approach  it  may,  worshipping  lowly. 

A  tribute  to  virtue  and  beauty  be  paid ; 
To  virtue  and  beauty  that  almost  had  made  her 
On  earth,  what  they  now  have  quite  made  her 

in  heaven : 
For  the  seraphic  charms,  in  this  world  that  array'd 

her, 
To  wither  as  soon  as  they  bloom'd  were  not 

given  ;— 
Ah  no!  they  were  only  transplanted  again 

To  bloom  in  the  glorious  world  whence  they 

came ; 

Where  nothing  of  earth  or  corruption  shall  stain 
Their  splendors  on  high  that  eternally  flame. 

My  Mary !  my  love !  art  thou  hovering  near 
To  look  upon  him  o'er  thy  dust  who  is  kneeling 

While  wrung  from  my  bosom,  full  many  a  tear 
To  water  the  Grave  of  my  Mary  is  stealing? 

H2 


(         90         ) 

While  o'er  thee  in  passionate  agony  bending,, 

I  fondly  would  think,  from  the  regions  above» 
Thy  spirit  I  see  in  its  beauty  descending, 

To  calm  my  wild  anguish  for  Mary  my  love ; 
To  turn  to  yon  heaven  the  eyes  that  are  steeping, 

Those  relics  of  thee  upon  earth  that  remain, — 
To  yonder  fair  heaven,  where  parting  nor  weeping 

Shall  ever  be  known  to  the  lover  again. 


THE  BLUE-EY'D  MAID 


TO    MARY. 


FORGET  me  not,  my  blue-ey'd  maid, 

When  fate  our  parting  shall  decree  : 
My  love  can  never  be  repaid, 

But  still  —  O  still,  remember  me  ! 
Though  when  I  to  thy  mind  appear, 

Thou  wilt  not  in  me  view  pourtray'd 
The  image  to  thy  bosom  dear, 

Forget  me  not,  my  blue-ey'd  maid  ! 

If  on  the  monumental  stone 
The  name  of  one  thou  chance  to  see 


(         91          ) 

Whose  heart  was  thine — and  thine  alone — 
O!  then,  my  love,  remember  me! 

Thine  image,  in  my  heart  enshrin'd, 
In  death's  embrace  alone  shall  fade  : 

When  I  am  in  his  arms  reclin'd 
Forget  me  not.  my  blue-ey'd  maid! 

When  1  have  met  the  fate,  to  brave 

Which  now  I  would  not  shrink  for  thee. 
If  thou  shalt  tread  upon  my  grave, 

My  darling  girl !  remember  me 
As  one  that  were  supremely  blest 

His  life  before  thee  to  have  laid, 
Could  that  have  won  his  last  request. 

Forget  me  not,  my  blue  ey'd  maid ! 


MONODY  ON 

EXPERIENCE  F.  NACK. 

OBITT.  MARCH  16-TH,  1826. 


SWEET  sufferer!  art  thou  not  now 
Enthron'd  among  the  cherubim, 

AVhere  beams  on  thine  angelic  brow 
The  saint's  triumphant  diadem  ? 


(          92         ) 

Then  why — O !  why  should  we  bewail 
That  thou  art  blest,  and  blest  forever; 

That  rude  misfortune's  stormy  gale 
Again  shall  blow  upon  thee  never-? 

If  tears  could  call  thee  back  again 

To  life  and  misery,  not  one 
Bereav'd  affection  bids  us  rain, 

Should  fall  from  me  thy  bier  upon ; 
For  oft,  as  I  beheld  thee  languish, 

I  scarce  refrain'd  to  God  to  bend, 
That  He  thy  being,  and  thine  anguish.. 

In  mercy  would  that  moment  end. 

Can  we  her  lot  on  earth  compare 

With  her  eternal  bliss  on  high, 
And  yet, — repining  ingrates ! — dare 

Indulge  one  murm'ring  tear  or  sigh  ? 
Say,  should  we  not  far  rather  bend 

To  Him  to  whom  she  has  ascended, 
And  thank  her  kind — her  heav'nly  friend, 

That  He  her  misery  has  ended  ? 

I  saw  her  not — and  heav'n  was  kind 
That  it  denied  me  to  be  near, — 

When  she  her  dying  breath  resign'd, — 
For  O !  to  witness  one  so  dear 

In  death's  last  agonies  depart, 
Forever  from  me  to  be  riven. — 


(          93         ) 

Had  been  a  scene  to  break  the  heart. — 
The  brain  to  madness  to  have  driven! 

Remember  thee  ! — O!  that  we  will ! 

Thy  dear  remembrance  shall  not  fade  ; 
AVe  never  can  forget  thee,  till 

We  lie  as  low  as  thou  art  laid : 
The  hour  we  never  can  forget, 

That  last  those  dear,  dear  arms  carest  us. 
That  last  our  lips  so  fondly  met. 

As  with  her  dying  breath  she  blest  us. 

O!  may  we  not  her  charge  forget 

To  seek  her  in  a  world  of  bliss, 
There  to  ensure  a  home,  while  yet 

Our  habitation  is  in  this : 
That  when  the  hour  of  death  is  nigh, 

The  hope  ecstatic  we  may  cherish 
That  we  shall  meet  with  her  on  high. 

In  raptures  that  can  never  perish. 


94 


THE  FAIR  MANIAC 


GAZING  upon  the  silent  flow 
Of  the  waters,  that  calmly  smile  below, 
A  lonely  one  stands  upon  yonder  rock 
That  often  hath  borne  the  billows'  shock, 
When  their  snowy  crests  have  many  a  time 
Appear'd  as  they  to  heaven  would  climb  ; 
But  now  how  placidly  they  spread ! 

While  the  moon-beams,  sporting  fitfully. 
Upon  their  azure  bosom  are  shed 

In  splendor  creating  an  imagery 
Of  the  deep  silver'd  blue  on  high ; 
Then  in  the  clouds  they  shun  the  eye. 
And  darkness  flings  around  the  night 
Her  mantle,  till  again  their  light 

Trembling  descends  upon  the  blue  water. 
Reposing  now  in  slumber  sweet ; 
As  smiles  the  aspect  of  deceit 

While  pants  the  heart  for  slaughter, 
Thus  oft  hath  smil'd  the  ocean's  face 
A  welcome  to  the  bark's  embrace, 
Till  yawn'd  the  horrors  of  the  deep1. 
To  bury  in  eternal  sleep 

The  victims  of  its  smile  ! 


But  do  they  there  forever  rest  I 

Can  they  not  leave  their  dwellings  there. 

To  tread  the  fields  of  earth  or  air  ? 
Such  thoughts  were  in  that  strangers  breast. 

For  there  are  times,  awhile 
To  Superstition's  sway  inclin'd 
Will  prove  the  firmest,  manliest  mind. 

So  silent  all  the  scene  around, 
That  if  a  breeze  had  whisper  d  near 
Its  accents  must  have  caught  the  ear, — 

When  hark !  a  sweet  unearthly  sound ! 

Is  it  a  spirit  that  meets  his  sight 

Upon  the  brink  of  the  perilous  height  ? 
For  who  of  human-kind  would  dare 
To  hover  so  near  destruction  there  ? 

One  farther  step  toward  the  brink, 

And  in  the  billows  it  will  sink, 
Unless  it  be  a  thing  of  air ! 

Oh!  never  sure  from  an  earthly  tongue 
Such  heavenly  melody  could  flow ! 

He  might  have  thought  that  an  angel  sung. 
But  for  the  mingling  strains  of  woe. 

That  told  the.  warbler's  heart  was  wrung 
With  pangs  that  seraphs  cannot  know. 


AIR. 

The  silver  moon-beams  now  are  streaming 

Upon  the  bosom  of  the  sea ; 
But  Love,  a  star  within  me  beaming, 

Through  darkness  would  have  led  to  thee. 

Within  the  arms  of  Ocean  lying, 
With  my  belov'd  I  soon  shall  be ; 

And  oh!  what  ecstasy  in  dying 

When  death  will  lead  to  heav'n — to  thee ! 


Ethellin  rush'd  in  time  to  save 
The  stranger  from  a  watery  grave; 
Upon  her  hand  his  hand  he  laid, 

But  shuddering  relax'd  his  hold  ; 

He  found  that  hand  so  icy  cold, 
He  scarcely  could  deem  her  an  earthly  maid, 

But  a  being  of  more  ethereal  mould* 

A  snowy  veil  around  her  flung 
About  her  features  loosely  hung, 
But  from  its  bondage  here  and  there 
Escap'd  a  tress  of  raven  hair, 
And  flash'd  beneath  that  veil  a  light 
That  rival'd  with  the  gems  of  night. 


(         97         ) 

i;  Stranger,"  she  said,  "  Wilt  thou  deny 
The  only  boon  I  ask — to  die ! 
If  thou  wilt  not  reject  my  prayer, 
Nor  doom  me  longer  life  to  bear, 
To  thee  be  all  the  blessings  given 
That  from  me  are  forever  riven ! 
Nay  speak  not, — for  it  were  in  vain ; — 
Forbid  me  not  to  rend  the  chain 
That  fetters  me  to  earth  from  heaven ! 
Behold  those  waves, — beneath  them  lies 
Mine  all, — my  love. — my  paradise ! 

And  dost  thou  pity  me  ?  that  tear 
Compels  me  yet  awhile  to  stay, 
That  I  to  my  belov'd  may  say 

That  one  at  least  could  pity  me. 
If  any  to  thy  heart  are  dear, 

May  they  be  never  torn  from  thee, 
Since  thou  canst  for  another  mourn, 
Prom  whom  her  best  belov'd  is  torn !" 

Ethellin  starts  as  she  flings  aside 

The  veil  that  conceal'd  her  face; 
Oh  what  can  from  the  lover  hide 

His  lov'd  one  1  Even  the  disguise 
Of  suffering  cannot  deceive  the  eyes 
That  in  her  pallid  features  trace 


(         98         ) 

The  maiden,  whp  in  former  days 
Was  haiPd  the  fairest  of  the  fair, 

When  pride  and  grandeur  throng'd  to  gaze 
Upon  the  low-born  Wilfred's  heir. 

The  humblest  of  the  humble  crowd 
That  worship'd  her,  Ethellin  bow'd ; 
Among  her  votaries  as  yet 
Amanda's  eye  he  never  met ; 
He  shun'd  that  eye,  lest  it  should  read 

In  the  flash  of  his  own  how  well  he  lov'd  \ 
Nor  even  with  a  glance  would  he  plead 

A  flame  that  might  not  be  appro v'd. 

How  could  he  hope  the  smiles  to  gain 
Tli at  she  denied  to  all  the  rest  ? 
If  he  his  daring  love  exprest 

What  could  he  hope  except  disdain  '! 

To  gaze  at  distance  and  adore, 
In  this  alone  supremely  blest, 

He  durst  not  ask  nor  seek  for  more. 

But  even  this  w7as  soon  denied, 

For  Edwy  claim'd  her  as  his  bride  ; 

And  such  a  claim  none  could  expect 

The  proudest  beauty  might  reject. 

Of  noble  lineage  he  came 

And  well  approv'd  his  father's  name,. 


(         99         ) 

For  often  on  the  field  of  war 
His  weapon,  to  the  hilt  in  gore, 
Inscribed  it  on  the  roll  of  Fame. 

In  him  was  every  charm  combin'd 
That  best  enchants  a  maiden's  mind, — 
His  high  descent, — his  valiant  arm, — 

His  form,  which  elegance  and  grace 
Array'd ; — the  tongue  whose  honied  charm 

Would  clothe  in  light  an  Ethiop  face  ; — 
But  his  a  face  wThere  loveliness 
Her  manliest  features  would  express. 

She  own'd  his  merits,  and  admir'd, 
And  lov'd,  or  thought  she  lov'd ; 

While  he  with  ecstasy  was  fir'd 
To  find  his  flame  approv'd. 

Approaches  now  the  bridal  day, 

While  Edwy  chides  its  slow  delay, 

Ethellin's  tears  no  less  deplore, 
The  rapid  flight  of  every  hour, 
That  leads  her  to  the  bridal  bower ; 

And  bids  him  love  no  more. 

i{  Yes,  I  will  fly,  but  first  before  her 

For  pardon  bending  low, 
Will  I  confess  I  dar'd  adore  her ; 

Yet  should  she  deign  to  throw 


Compassion's  glance,  how  could  I  fly! 
But  say  can  pity  beam  in  her  eye 
For  one  like  me  ?  Ah  no!  Ah  no!" 

He  turns, — his  brother  beside  him  stands, 

And  places  a  packet  in  his  hands, 

While  the  cloud  on  his  brow,  and  the  tear  on 

his  cheek, 
A  tale  of  sorrow  appear  to  speak. 

e<  And  has  misfortune  then  the  power 
More  sorrows  on  my  head  to  shower  ? 
Whatever  be  thy  cause  of  grief, 
Seek  not  Ethellin  for  relief; 
His  woes  are  all  in  this  united, 
That  Hope,  the  Flower  of  Love,  is  blighted, 
That  he  must  be  condemn'd  to  sever, 
'From  his  belov'd,  and  oh!  forever!" 

"  Our  sister!"-— 

"  Heavens!  What  dost  thou  say  ? 
Has  that  bright  angel  fled  away, 
And  sunk  in  death's  embrace  to  rest  ? 
Nay,  weep  not,  brother,  she  is  blest! 
They  rather  claim  compassion's  tear 
Whom  she  has  left  to  suffer  here ; 
Yet  while  1  bid  thee  not  to  mourn 
My  sorrow  triumphs,  as  in  scorn, 


And  tears  will  rush  into  mine  eyes 
To  mock  my  fortitude's  disguise." 

"  Speak  not  of  her  1"  His  brother  cried, 
"  It  had  been  better  had  she  died." 

"  Oh!  tell  me  that  the  dread  is  vain 
That  thrills  with  horror  through  my  brain  I" 
;;  My  lips  could  never  tell  the  tale, 
But  what  they  to  repeat  would  fail 
That  packet  will  explain." 

Ethellin  reads  the  fatal  scroll, 
And  fury  kindles  in  the  soul 

Late  sway'd  by  love  and  gentleness  ? 
Lightnings  flash  terribly  from  his  eyes, 
As  with  impassion'd  voice  he  cries, 
"  Perdition  on  her!  but  she  dies! 

'Tis  virtue  to  be  merciless ! 

••  And  yet  she  may, — yes,  it  must  be! 
I  wrong'd  her  angel  purity. 
Come  let  us  seek  the  world  around; 
By  heaven  she  shall  again  be  found 
As  holy  as  when  I  saw  her  last, 
For  none  such  purity  could  blast. 
Jf  while  around  her  hallow'd  head 
Of  virtue  beams  the  diadem, 


i  2 


(         102         ) 

The  evil  spirit,  struck  with  dread 

That  what  his  wretched  slaves  contemn? 
From  her  would  such  resplendence  shed 

It  even  would  be  sought  by  them, 
Should  send  a  fiend  to  snatch  her  crown^ 
And  hurl  the  throne  of  virtue  down, 
Angels  would  rush,  on  wings  of  flame, 
To  guard  their  sister  angel's  name." 

Hurriedly  they  turn  away, 

Love  itself  cannot  delay ; 

And  scarce,  for  his  sister,  Ethellin's  mind 

Has  one  thought  for  her  he  has  left  behind?- 

The  shades  of  even  began  to  descend 
As  the  rider  of  tempests,  whose  terrors  were 

nigh, 

With  banners  of  flame  had  encircled  the  sky ; 
And  now  for  a  shelter  the  wanderers  bend, 
As  his  gonfalon  bright  they  see  unfurl'd, 
In  sign  of  the  war  he  threats  to  the  world. 

As  they  are  approaching  a  cottage  near 
A  plaintive  melody  floats  to  their  ear. 

AIR. 

Would  I  had  seen  thee  and  lov'd  thee  never! 
To  lovq  thee  once  was  to  love  thee  ever; 


(         103        ) 

And  though  thy  heart  is  betray'd  to  view 
I  cannot  abhor  its  guilty  hue. 

To  perdition  1  had  not  been  driven 
Had  it  not  worn  the  image  of  heaven, 
But  who  could  look  on  a  form  so  fair, 
And  think  that  evil  might  harbour  there  ? 


The  warbler  ceas'd  as  she  heard  their  tread. 

And  welcoming  the  sound, 
•'  And  art  thou  come  at  last  ?"  She  said ; 

But  when  she  turns  around 
Where  petrified  Ethellin  stands, 
With  a  fearful  shriek  she  clasps  her  hands> 

And  sinks  upon  the  ground ; 

•'  By  all  our  love  to  one  another 
Forgive  me — oh !  forgive  me,  brother  1?> 

"  Lost!  lost  forever!  Is  it  so  ? 
Will  none  in  pity  answer  no  ? 
Recal  thy  words, — thy  crime  deny, 
And  I  will  bless  thee  for  the  lie, 
Believing  still  thy  purity 
Unblemish'd  as  it  ought  to  be." 


(          104          ) 

She  starts — she  springs  upon  her  feet, 
And  pride  and  indignation  meet 
In  the  keen  flashes  of  her  eyes, 
As  to  Ethellin  she  replies ; 

"  Hast  thou  forgot  that  I  inherit 
Much  as  his  blood  my  father's  spirit  ? 
Were  1  unworthy  thine  embrace, — 
If  I  had  on  thee  thrown  disgrace 
In  the  pollution  of  my  name, 
Say,  could  my  life  survive  my  fame  ? 
My  honour  lives,  for  see,  I  live ! 
Yet  I  would  ask  thee  to  forgive 
That  I  without  my  sire's  consent 
Was  wedded,  as  I  well  repent. 
Our  rites  were  secret,  and  when  past, 
I  with  my  husband  fled :  at  last 
One  night,  he  bade  me  wait  him  here, 
And  went,  to  come  no  more,  I  fear ; 
For  while  I  sorrow  day  by  day, 
Lord  Edwy  lingers  still  away." 

"  Lord  Edwy!"  shuddering,  he  cried, 
"  And  shall  Amanda  be  his  bride  ? 
She  welcomes  even  now  the  fate 
That  he  has  bid  on  thee  await! 
For  thy  protection  stays  my  brother, 
But  I  must  fly  to  save  another." 


(  105  ) 

But  as  he  turird  away,  she  fell 
Before  his  feet,  insensible ; 
He  stop'd, — his  sister  gently  rais'd. 
And  tenderly  upon  her  gaz'd, 
But  no  reply  her  dim'd  eyes  lent ; 

Her  heart  had  broken  at  the  sound 
Of  Edwy's  guilt,  and  through  the  rent 

Her  spirit  its  departure  found. 


The  priest  is  by  the  altar  side, 
Where  Edvvy  stands  to  claim  his  bride  $ 
"  As  thus  I  join  you  hand  in  hand, 
Be  join'd  in  wedlock's  holy  band.-' — 
A  voice  of  thunder  answers,  "  Never ! 
Those  hands  eternally  I  sever! 
The  bridal  ends  at  my  command!" 
A  sword  gleam'd  in  Ethelliivs  hand, 

Which  menacing  he  wavM  on  high ; 

And  those  might  deem,  who  met  his  eye, 
They  saw  Revenge  embodied  stand, 
For  in  that  eye  the  lightnings  shone 
That  blaze  around  a  Fury's  throne. 

"  Hold,  madman!  calm  thy  rage  awhile. 
Nor  heaven's  shrine  with  blood  defile ; 
A  fitter  place,  and  fitter  time, 
Shall  prove  my  arm  can  cope  with  thine." 


(          106          ) 

"  This  is  no  more  a  hallow'd  shrine ; 
Wert  thou  in  heav'n,  thou  child  of  crime, 

]Not  heav'n  itself  were  then  divine  ! 
But  time  nor  place  does  vengeance  heed, 
Die,  villain!  Laura  bids  thee  bleed!" 

An  eager  throng  to  part  them  rushM, 

But  interfered  in  vain  : 
Ethellm's  sword  with  crimson  blush'd 
That  from  the  side  of  Edwy  gush  d  5 
"  Laura!  I  have  aveng'd  thy  wrong! 

Thy  murderer  is  slain !" 
He  shouted,  while  the  parting  throng, 
Receded  as  he  rush'd  along, 

Not  daring  him  detain. 


Upon  the  walls,  in  blackness  hung, 
A  shaded  light  the  tapers  flung, 

That  added  to  the  gloom; 
And  there,  in  funeral  garb  array'd, 
Amanda  weeps,  the  widow'd  maid, 

She  weeps,  but  weeps  for  whom  ? 
Her  tears  on  Edwy's  bier  are  shed 
For  him  by  whom  that  Edwy  bled, 
For  him  whom  the  avenging  foes 
To  danger  and  to  death  expose. 


(          107          ) 

She  heeded  not  when  Edvvy  fell, 

Here  thoughts  were  on  the  stranger  cast, 
So  lovely,  though  so  terrible ! 
Her  eye  pursu'd  him  as  he  past 
Amid  the  throng  ;  and  when  at  last 

They  rais'd  the  fearful  yell 
Of  vengeance,  terror  seiz'd  her  soul, 
Now  first  enthral'd  in  love's  control, 
And  thoughts  she  dar'd  not  tell. 

And  now  she  weeps  the  impending  danger 
That  threats  the  interesting  stranger, 
When  to  her  terror  and  surprise 
That  stranger  stands  before  her  eyes. 

"  Didst  thou  adore  a  demon  then  ? 
And  didst  thou  love  that  worst  of  men  ? 
Yet  would  I  not  recal  the  deed, 
For  love  and  vengeance  bade  him  bleed  ; 
The  wretch  through  whom  my  sister  died 
But  ill  in  thee  deserv'd  a  bride. 
Thank  heaven  that  thy  tears  are  vain, 
They  cannot  call  him  back  again  ; 
And  if  they  could,  again  should  he 

Receive  what  late  my  vengeance  gave  him. 
E'en  if  thyself,  on  bending  knee, 

Shouldst  plead  in  agony  to  save  him. 
He  well  deserv'd  the  fate  he  met ; 
E'en  as  he  is,  I  hate  him  yet, 


(         108         ) 

Though  he  is  dead  my  fury  lives, 
And  scarce  thy  sympathy  forgives. 

"  1  love  thee ! — love  me  not  again ' — 
Be  thou  a  stranger  to  the  pain 
Of  love  like  mine ! — I  go  alone 
To  brave  a  destiny  unknown  ; 
The  church,  by  sacrilege  alarm'd, 
Against  me  has  its  fury  arm'd ; 
And  Edwy's  friends  and  kindred  rise 
My  life  for  his  to  sacrifice ; — 
Belov'd  by  none, — by  all  abhor'd,— 
By  such  a  wretch  thou  art  ador'd ! 

"  Farewell,  my  darling  girl !  farewell 

To  thee,  and  hopes  I  may  not  cherish  : 
Again  must  I  repeat  the  knell 

Of  joys  that  only  dawn'd  to  perish! 
A  friend  belov'd  I  never  yet 

Have  found,  but  we  were  doom'd  to  sever, 
And  thou,  the  dearest  ever  met! 

We  only  meet  to  part  forever!" 

He  rush'd  away,  but  left  behind 
His  image  in  Amanda's  mind ; 
And  oft  her  heart,  for  his  return, 
In  hope's  delirium  would  burn ; 
And  by  that  hope  delusive  led 
She  oft  the  rocky  height  would  tread, 


(         109         ) 

And  would  gaze  for  hours  upon  the  sea, 
Where  she  thought  his  bark  returning  might  be, 

The  brow  of  heaven  darkly  lowers, 
The  blazing  lightnings  gild  the  sky 
Which  shakes  with  heaven- s  artillery; 
The  earth  is  bath'd  by  rapid  showers ; 
The  winds  unfetter'd,  toss  the  ocean, 
Foaming  at  their  rude  commotion  : 
Unable  now  to  guide  the  way, 
The  pilot  yields  the  storm  the  sway, 
Which  drives  the  bark  toward  the  shore 
Ethellin  thought  to  tre*d  no  more. 

«  I  know  my  doom  is  fix'd  by  heaven, 
Since  I  toward  this  shore  am  driven ; 
Alike  upon  the  sea  and  land 
I  view  impending  dangers  stand  ; 
But  death  is  welcome ; — life  denies 
All  that  could  bid  me  life  to  prize." 

"  The  ship  is  lost!  the  waves  she  drinks! 
Fly  to  the  boats!  she  sinks!  she  sinks!" 
Amid  the  crew  the  clamour  rung, 
As  to  the  boats  dismay 'd  they  sprung. 

Ere  yet  the  storm  its  wrath  betray'd, 
Upon  the  rocks  had  stood  a  maid 


Gazing  upon  the  distant  bark ; 

The  tempest  scarce  would  she  remark 

When  it  arose ;  to  the  effect 

Her  thoughts  were  so  intently  given, 
The  cause  itself  claim'd  but  neglect ; 

She  saw  the  gallant  vessel  riven, — 
She  saw  when  to  the  boats  they  sprung, 
And  knew  her  lov'd  one  them  among. 

"  'Tis  he!"  she  cried,  and  with  delight 
And  eagerness,  rush'd  from  the  height. 
Upon  the  shore  had  gather'd  a  throng 

To  watch  the  fate  of  the  distrest ; 

There  Wilfred  stood  among  tho  rest. 
And  as  Amanda  rush'd  along, 
(The  winds  among  her  tresses  raving, 
Adown  her  neck  dishevel'd  waving,) 
Her  looks  and  gestures  were  so  wild 
The  father  could  not  know  his  child. 

She  watch'd,  with  mingled  hope  and  fear, 
The  bark  that  bore  Ethellin  near ; 
A  wave  that  seem'd  to  kiss  the  skies 
A  moment  hid  him  from  her  eyes  5 
They  sunk, — Ethellin  rose  again, 
Alone  he  struggled,  and  in  vain ; — 
Again  he  sunk, — she  saw  no  more,— 
Her  lifeless  form  away  they  bore. 


Life  is  rostor'd, — but  reason  has  fled, 

Yet  love  exists  in  madness  still, 

And  love  exist  forever  will 
Till  she  herself  shall  be  with  the  dead. 
But  him,  her  tears  as  dead  deplore, 
A  wave  had  cast  upon  the  shore ; 
Some  peasants  found  him  senseless  there, 
And  life  return'd  beneath  their  care. 

They  knew  he  was  condemned  to  die ; 

None  would  betray  him ;  but  his  flight 

They  urg'd  ;  a  bark  that  very  night 
To  bear  him  thence  was  heaving  nigh ; 
And  he  was  watching  for  it,  when 

The  lovely  maniac  met  his  eyes ; 
All  else  was  quite  forgotten  then 

In  pity, — horror, — and  surprise. 

vi  Amanda!"  mournfully  he  cried, 
"  I  come!  he  calls  me!"  she  replied, 
"  The  mermaids  have  woven  thy  shroud,  my 
love, 

The  billows  thy  sepulchre  be ; 
Thy  dirge  is  the  thunder,  so  loud,  my  love, 

And  the  roar  of  the  winds  and  the  sea! 
Thy  spirit  is  thron'd  on  a  wave,  my  love, 

I  see  it ; — it  beckons  to  me ! 
I  come  to  lie  down  in  thy  grave,  my  love. 

And  sleep  in  the  ocean  with  thee!" 


She  would  have  sprung  into  the  wave, 

But  his  grasp  was  ready  again  to  save ; 

That  instant  the  bark  he  watch'd  for  appeared, 

He  led  her  there,  and  it  bounded  away  ; 

There  came  to  her  mind  a  becalming  ray, 
As  she  fell  asleep  on  his  bosom  endear' d  ; 

And  when  she  awoke,  oh!  who  can  say 
How  glad  was  the  change !  for,  her  reason 

restor'd, 
She  knew  him,  Ethellin,  her  lov'd,  her  ador'd ! 

As  soon  as  they  came  to  another  land 

At  the  altar  she  pledg'd  him  her  heart  and  her 

hand ; 

And  their  life  from  that  time  was  a  life^of  bliss, 
As  pure  as  may  be  in  a  world  like  this. 


113 


THE  DREAM  OF  BLISS 


THE  dream  of  bliss — how  soon  it  vanish'dl 
How  soon  its  charms  by  truth  were  banish'd! 
The  dream  of  bliss — though  fled  forever, 
That  dream  can  be  forgotten  never. 

Me  thought  the  fairest  under  heaven 
To  me  a  faithful  heart  had  given ; 
Methought  the  lovely  Mary  priz'd  me,— 
I  woke  to  find  that  she  despis'cl  me. 

My  prospects  by  misfortune  blighted, — 
My  passion  unreturivd  and  slighted. — 
Contemn'd, — unpitied,  I  must  languish. 
Nor  even  hope  beguiles  mine  anguish. 

But  still  undying  burns  the  fire 
Of  Love,  while  all  the  hopes  expire 
This  bosom  never  more  may  cherish, 
For  love  but  with  my  life  can  perish. 


K  2 


SCORN  REQUITED. 


I  COULD  not  tremble  at  thy  frown, 
I  could  not  kneel  thy  smile  to  gain. 

But  I  had  laid  existence  down 

To  save  thee  from  a  moment's  pain  ; 

Oh!  think  not  that  1  lov'd  the  less 

That  words  could  ill  my  love  express! 

Before  thy  heart  a  pang  should  know 
Mine  own  a  sacrifice  should  bleed  ; 

But  one,  more  skill'd  in  words  to  show 
The  love  I  could  but  prove  in  deed, 

Has  rob'd  thy  heart,  and  left  me  all 

The  scorn  that  on  himself  should  fall. 

Since  lips  profan'd  by  nectar'd  lies 
Could  make  thy  heart  my  rival's  prey? 

I  cannot  but  that  heart  despise, 
And  let  affection  die  away, 

And  thy  contempt,  unjustly  borne, 

Repay  thee  with  a  juster  scorn. 

This  heart  shall  never  love  again 
If  all  thy  sex  resemble  thee, 


For  none  were  worthy  to  obtain 

Such  love  as  once  was  known  to  me, 
Who  like  thyself  can  love  despise 
That  wears  not  flattery's  disguise. 


MARY,  DEAREST. 


Go  not  yet,  my  Mary  dear! 

We  too  soon  must  sever, 
Thou  perhaps  without  a  tear, 

Though  we  part  forever 
When  we  part! — Oh  love!  that  hour 

Still  delay  when  nearest ; 
Let  my  prayer  with  thee  have  power, 

Go  not,  Mary,  dearest! 

Go  not  yet,  my  Mary  dear! 

Love  I  urg'd  unheeded, 
But  wilt  thou  refuse  to  hear 

When  for  pity  pleaded  ? 
Soon  I  from  my  native  shore 

Fly  to  exile  drearest ; 
But  till  I  may  stay  no  more, 

Go  not,  Mary,  dearest! 


Go  not  yet,  ray  Mary  dear! 

Ours  no  future  meeting! 
Bid  not  moments,  I  shall  ne'er 

Know  again,  be  fleeting. 
If  too  much  by  more  delay 

Me  to  bless  thou  fearest, 
Go! — if  not,  in  pity  stay! — 

Go  not,  Mary,  dearest! 


THE  BILLET-DOUX 


I  SAT  mine  own  belov'd  one  nigh, 
Who  blushing,  with  averted  eye, 
With  bashful  hesitation  plac'd 
Into  my  hand  the  billet  trac'd 
By  hers ; — the  lines  were  simple, — few,- 
And  might  be  to  the  jealous  view 
Of  one  of  such  a  fiery  mould 
As  mine,  dispassionate  and  cold. 

It  nothing  breath'd  of  passion's  flame, 
Or  even  friendship's  colder  claim : 
The  lines  were  such  as  might  be  pen'd 
By  one  in  scarcely  name  a  friend ; 


And  yet  my  burning  heart  forgave  her  :- 
Cold  as  it  was.  it  was  a  favour 
I  had  not  look'd  for ; — she  had  been 
So  hard  thus  far  alone  to  win. 

I  thought  it  worth  a  sacred  care. 
For  her  dear  name  was  written  there, — 
And  written  by  the  only  hand 
I  thought  it  heaven  to  command ; 
t  prest  that  name  with  passion's  kiss, 
Nor  deem'd  what  then  the  gush  of  bliss 
Commanded,  soon  should  tears  employ 
As  tributes  to  departed  joy. 

But  even'  day  I  found  the  same 
Her  coldness,  till  upon  my  flame 

At  last  was  thrown  a  kindied  chill, 

And  I  renounc'd  her  then ; — but  still 
Oft  as  this  billet  meets  my  sight 
I  sigh,  regretting  the  delight 
That,  when  I  read  it  first.  I  felt 
Inspired  by  hopes  her  heart  to  melt. 

By  any  if  may  be  possest 

The  power  to  warm  so  cold  a  breast, 

That  one  I  am  not ; — perish  then 

Ye  cold  effusions  of  her  pen ! 

Cold  as  ye  are.  \e  once  could  wake 

The  hopes  that  now  my  heart  forsake ; 


(          H8         ) 

But  they  have  perish'd, — perish  too, 
Nor  mind  me  more  that  them  I  knew. 


MARTIAL  ODE. 


THE  trumpet  has  sounded, 

"To  battle,  away!" 
By  thousands  surrounded 

In  gallant  array, 

The  warrior  hastens  in  battle  to  claim 
A  bed  of  gore,  or  a  wreath  of  fame. 

Above  the  banners  are  proudly  streaming, 

Fan'd  in  baltlo'e  arising  gale  ; 
Terribly  bright  the  arms  are  gleaming, 

That  soon  must  be  dim'd  in  a  crimson  veil. 

The  foes  have  met  contending ; — 
Fame  and  Conquest  to  decide 

On  the  strife  impending, 
Above  them  in  their  car  ethereal  ride. 
Their  eye  on  battle  bending. 
Terribly  flashing, 
Swiftly  descending, 
Every  sword  is  bloodily  dyed. 
Armour  clashing, 


Shrieks  and  shouts  tumultuous  blending 
Rise,  the  startled  welkin  rending. 

See  the  foe  receding 

From  the  victor's  might ; — 
See  the  hero  leading 

To  pursue  their  flight ; — 
See  the  warrior  bleeding, 
Struggling  still  to  fight  ; 
On  the  field  disabled  lying, 
See  he  grasps  his  weapon  dying, 

Shouting,  while  from  the  battle  storm 
The  foes,  confusedly  flying, 

Trample  upon  his  mangled  form, 
Lightnings  flashing  from  the  eyes 
Clos'd  in  death  that  soon  must  be, 
"  Victory!  Victory!" 
Away  ho  springs 
On  glory's  wings, 
And  in  her  bright  embraces  dies. 

His  bed  of  rest,  though  gory, 

Is  worthy  of  the  brave  ; 
The  starry  wreaths  of  glory 

Encanopy  his  grave; 
And  Conquest  bends  her  laurel'd  head, 
To  shower  her  trophies  on  the  illustrious  dead. 


(          120         ) 
MONODY  ON 

CHRISTIAN  F.  KARTELL, 


"  AWAY  !  Away !  from  earth  away 
And  from  the  ills  that  there  abound  ! 

Turn  from  its  gloom  to  hail  the  ray 

That  streams  from  heaven's  gate  of  day  ; 
Haste,  spirit!  with  the  blest  be  crown'd. 

O'er  whom  eternal  glories  play ! 

Haste,  spirit!  haste!  Away!  Away!" 

His  spirit,  at  the  welcome  song, 

•'  Away!  Away!"  exulting  cried, 
And  springing  to  the  angel  throng, 
Borne  on. their  radiant  wings  along, 

Arose  in  heaven  to  abide ! 
Ye  mourners,  hark!  Does  he  not  say 
"  Seek  me  in  bliss!  Away!  Away! 

'•  And  tJwUj  on  earth  mine  own  by  ties 
The  dearest  that  can  mortals  bind, 

Heed  not  the  form  in  earth  which  lies, 

But  seek  my  spirit  in  the  skies, 
Where  thine  shall  with  it  be  entwin'd. 


O !  surely  thine  would  not  delay 
When  call'd  by  mine,  away — away ! 

Will  it  not  be  a  welcome  hour 

When  o'er  thee  shall  my  spirit  bend. 
To  call  thee  from  corruption's  power 
To  bloom  with  me,  a  heav'nly  flower, 
Whose  incense  shall  to  Him  ascend 
Whose  angels  to  His  ransom'd  say, 
"  Haste,  spirit!  haste!  Away!  Away! 

Away!  mine  own  belov'd!  Away! 

In  heaven  be  again  my  bride ! 
Thus  gladden'd  will  my  spirit  say, 
When  sent  with  heaven's  bright  array 

On  angel  wings  to  bid  thee  ride. 
No  more  asunder  shall  we  stay! 
Haste,  spirit!  haste!  Away!  Away!" 


(          12*          ) 


LINES, 

Occasioned  by  reading  a  Monody,  written  on  the 
Death  of  one  of  the  Authors  Brothers,  by  ano 
ther,  who  himself  died  soon  after. 


MY  brother!  o'er  a  brother's  tomb 

When  sweetly  rung  thy  harp  of  sorrow, 
I  little  thought  it  was  my  doom 

O'er  thine  to  sweep  it  on  the  morrow ! 
And  soon, — how  soon  I  cannot  say, 

With  him  and  thee  shall  I  be  sleeping, 
And  o'er  my  grave,  to  sorrow's  lay, 

Some  Minstrel  may  the  Harp  be  sweeping. 

But  if  to  mine  unhonour'd  name 

No  Minstrel  should  the  Harp  awaken, 
Nor  e'en  my  grave  the  tears  should  claim 

That  from  my  heart  thine  own  has  taken, 
The  world's  unkind  neglect  can  be 

But  little  heeded  by  my  spirit, 
Which  shall,  I  trust,  with  him  and  thee 

The  Kingdom  of  our  God  inherit. 


123 


TO  EVELINA  P  -  TT. 


THERE  was  a  time.  —  there  was  a  time, 

When  I  like  thee  was  pure  —  was  blest  ! 
When  not  a  thought  of  shame  or  crime, 

With  its  pollution  stain'd  my  breast! 
While  childhood  bids  each  fairest  flower 

Of  bliss,  thine  infant  brow  entwine, 
1  think  how  I  in  childhood's  hour 

Was  pure  as  thee,  sweet  Eveline  ! 

My  childhood  fled  —  and  with  it  fled 

Tho  Wisrr,  -  tfiCTOTiocxrrrcTrit  gerre  me! 

No  guardian  angel  o'er  me  spread 
Her  wing,  from  stain  of  earth  to  save  me  ! 

But  Oh,  may  heaven  ne'er  allow 
The  path  of  error  to  be  thine, 

Whose  thorns  were  trod  by  him.  who  now 
Must  envy  thee,  sweet  Eveline  ! 

Good  angels  guard  thee  from  all  ill. 

And  heaven  all  the  bliss  bestow 
That  now  is  thine,  upon  thee  still 

When  beauty's  ripest  tints  shall  glow 
Upon  the  cheek,  on  which  so  oft 

JVly  lips  in  fondest  touch  recline, 


(          124         ) 

To  seal  in  the  impression  soft, 
My  love  for  thee,  sweet  Eveline ! 

1  know  not  how  thine  infant  breast 

Repays  the  feelings,  by  mine  own 
For  thee,  my  darling  child,  confest : 

From  few  I  love  return'd  have  known ! 
May  all  to  thy  young  bosom  dear 

Repay  thy  love  with  love  like  mine, 
Though  mine  have  no  return  sincere, 

From  even  thee,  sweet  Eveline ! 

It  matters  not,  for  we  must  part, 

And  not  beneath  mine  eye  shall  grow 
The  beauties  which  thy  form  and  heart 

Shall  to  thy  parents'  gaze  bestow ; 
Increasing  may  thy  beauty's  light, 

External  and  internal,  shine 
To  bless  them,  till  an  angel  quite, 

They  meet  in  heav'n  their  Eveline ! 


MY  DARLING  LITTLE  MARY. 


WHEN  childhood  shall  have  flown  away. 
And  youth  its  bloom  shall  lend  thee, 


(          125          ) 

May  all  the  bliss  of  childhood's  day, 
And  innocence,  attend  thee  ; 

Nor  may  a  heart  so  pure  and  blest, 
For  guilt  or  sorrow  vary, 

Which  now  are  strangers  to  thy  breast. 
My  darling  little  Mary. 

When  Beauty's  glow  is  on  thee  thrown, 

May  it  be  thine  endeavour 
Xot  outward  charms  to  win  alone, 

But  those  that  perish  never : 
Since  all  the  charms  that  meet  the  eye 

Are  not  more  bright  than  airy, 
Be  thine  the  charms  that  never  die. 

My  darling  little  Mary. 

On  earth  may  Mary  long  repay 

The  fondness  of  a  mother, 
Vnd  from  this  world  when  call'd  away 

By  death,  to  seek  another, 
May  angels  her  pure  spirit  bear 

To  bliss  that  cannot  vary, 
Vnd  may  she  find  a  mother  there 

To  clasp  her  darling  Mary. 


126 


TO  AMELIA  K G, 


DEAR  little  cherub!  when  beside  me 

Thy  laughing  beauty  glads  mine  eyes, 
Although  the  blessing  is  denied  me 

Which  none  so  well  know  how  to  prize. 
Although  I  am  debar'd  from  hearing 

Affection's  music  from  thy  tongue, 
The  music  that  with  touch  endearing 

Had  thrilling  o'er  my  heart-strings  rung, 
Yet  when  thy  brow  of  marble  whiteness 

I  press,  or  thy  carnation  cheek, 
Thine  eyes,  which  beam  with  laughing  brightness. 

To  mine  a  thrilling  language  speak  : 
Though  from  thy  lips  the  fond  confession 

I  may  not  be  allow'd  to  hear, 
Thine  eyes  declare,  in  sweet  expression, 

Thy  pure  young  heart  esteems  me  dear. 
It  is  but  lately  thou  hast  known  me, 

Yet  even  now  thou  lov'st  me  well, 
For  such  thine  artless  looks  have  shown  me ; 

And  how  I  love  thee  none  can  tell ! 
I  love  thee  as  I  were  thy  brother ; 

Then  in  Amelia  let  me  claim 
My  little  sister,  since  none  other 

I  have  who  may  command  the  name* 


(         127         ) 

When  in  thine  innocent  caresses 

I  feel  such  gladness  I  could  weep  ; 
When  wreath  my  fingers  in  thy  tresses, 

Or  softly  o'er  my  cheek  they  sweep  ; 
Around  thee  when  mine  arm  is  twining 

To  clasp  thee  in  a  dear  embrace  ; 
When  soft  thine  eyes  on  mine  are  shining, 

Or  press  my  lips  thy  cherub  face  ; 
1  pray  that  thou  by  Him  above  thee, 

As  I  would  bless  thee,  may  be  blest; 
That  He  may  love  thee  as  I  love  thee, 

And  take  thy  spirit  to  His  breast  : 
And  there,  Amelia,  may  I  meet  thee, 

When  free  shall  be  my  tongue  and  ear  ; 
When  words  of  love  from  me  shall  greet  thee, 

And  I  the  same  from  thee  shall  hear. 


LIFE  AND  DEATH. 


OH!  what  is  life?  A  painful  dream 
That  death  awakes  us  from — 

Death,  who  however  he  may  seem 
In  terror  cloth'd  to  some, 

Our  lot  from  anguish  to  redeem 
Shall  like  an  angel  come, 


(          128          ) 

And  clasp  us  to  his  icy  breast, 
Where  ev'ry  care  is  lull'd  to  rest ; 
Since  well  that  rest  we  need,  Oh !  why 
Should  we  thus  fearful  be  to  die  ? 

The  dark  impressions  on  the  heart 

Of  many  a  deed  of  ill, 
The  terrors  to  the  grave  impart, 

From  which  with  shudd'ring  thrill 
Our  guilty  minds  revolting  start, 

And  cling  to  being  still ; 
Though  in  that  being  we  can  find 
No  fairy  spell  our  souls  to  bind, 
And  all  our  thousand  sorrows  say, 
"  Turn  from  this  wretched  world  away!" 

Whatever  we  may  suffer  here, 

Tf  what  we  merit  all 
Were  ours,  a  doom  far  more  severe 

Upon  our  heads  would  fall ; 
And  when,  our  spirits  to  unsphere, 

Death  sounds  the  awful  call, 
We  shrink  with  horror  from  the  world 
To  come,  where  on  us  may  be  hurl'd 
A  doom  deserv'd.     Fears  of  the  grave 
Our  minds  but  by  our  guilt  enslave. 

But  Christian,  shall  such  fears  invade 
The  breast  of  one  for  whom 


(         129         ) 

A  Saviours  life  a  ransom  paid  i 

Wilt  thou  too  dread  the  tomb, 
Where  the  Redeemer's  head  was  laid 

To  save  thee  from  the  doom 
Which  none  but  those  \\lio  scorn  Him  meet  ? 
Xo  —  Christian,  at  thy  Saviour's  feet 
Thy  life  thou  with  its  crimes  canst  lay, 
With  hope's  instead  of  terror's  sway. 


THE  PRAYER  OF  PURITY. 


LIKE  thee  I  am  not  one  of  those 

Whose  prayers  to  answer  heav'n  will  deign, 
For  never  yet  my  prayer  arose 

For  bliss,  but  it  arose  in  vain  : 
Continued  still  a  shower  of  woes 

Upon  my  fated  head  to  rain ; 
And  I  must  deem,  though  heav'n  indeed 
May  hear,  my  prayers  it  will  not  heed. 

Yet  why  should  heav'n  regard  a  prayer 

To  bless  me?  what  am  I  but  one 
Who  well  deserve  the  curse  to  bear 

From  childhood  thrown  my  doom  upon? 


(          130         ) 

Shall  those  who  tread  in  error  dare 

Expect  that  error's  thorns  to  shun? 
I  suffer  more  than  others  do, 
But  I  have  err'd  as  widely  too. 

Yet  there  are  prayers  that  might  avail 

To  bless  me, — though  no  prayers  of  mine  ;- 

Nor  even  mine  to  call  would  fail 
For  one,  a  ray  from  heaven's  shrine  ; 

For  bliss  my  future  lot  would  hail, 
Invok'd  by  lips  so  pure  as  thine  ; 

And  blessings  would  embalm  thy  head. 

Although  by  lips  unholy  shed. 

Then  still  shall  bend  my  suppliant  knee, 
Not  for  myself, — but  one  more  dear; — 

And  thou, — O !  thou  wilt  pray  for  me, 
And  heav'n  sure  thy  prayer  will  hear, 

And  throw,  for  one  unstain'd  asthee, 
Oblivion  on  my  past  career ; 

And  angels,  thee  to  emulate, 

Will  brighten  my  hereafter  fate. 


131 


THOU  ART  GONE  BEFORE  ME 


THINE  every  joy  thou  bad'st  me  share, 
And  when  my  brow  was  dark  with  care, 

Thine  own  its  gloom  would  borrow  ; 
How  often,  when  with  aching  head, 
I  writh'd  upon  a  restless  bed, 

With  kind  affection's  sorrow, 
Thy  hand  this  burning  brow  has  prest, 
That  lost  its  anguish,  thus  carest, 

And  I  was  blest,  but  never, — 

0  never  more  shall  I  be  blest, 
For  thou  art  lost  forever ! 

When  thou  my  aching  brow  hast  smoothed, 
When  thou  my  troubled  heart  hast  soothed. 

I  thought,  with  pleasing  sadness, 
That  thou,  when  death  forbade  my  stay, 
With  flowers  of  love  wonldst  strew  the  way> 

That  I  might  tread  with  gladness  : 

1  thought  that  when  upon  the  bier 
I  lay,  bedew'd  with  many  a  tear 

By  friendship  bending  o'er  me, 
One  might  be  shed  than  all  more  dear, 
But — thou  art  gone  before  me ! 


(    132    ) 

OUR  LOVE  SHALL  BLOOM  IN 
HEAVEN. 


DEATH'S  angel  hovers  near,  my  love. 

To  tear  me  from  thy  sight ; 
To  all,  however  dear,  my  love, 

I  now  must  bid  good  night. 
Adieu,  to  every  friend  adieu, 

Andthou,  esteem'd  by  me 
More  dear,  than  all  I  ever  knew, 

Adieu,  my  love,  to  thee! 

To  bid  adieu  to  thee,  my  love, 

If  death  the  pang  would  spare, 
None  other  could  there  be,  my  love, 

That  I  would  shrink  to  bear ; 
For  death  appears  from  every  ill, 

Misfortune's  child  to  save ; 
But  ah !  thy  love  would  turn  me  still, 

Reluctant  from  the  grave. 

Nay,  why  from  that  bright  eye,  my  love, 

Should  tears  upon  me  rain? 
Is  there  no  world  on  high,  my  love. 

Where  we  shall  meet  again? 


(          133         ) 

An  erring  path  though  I  have  trod, 
Mine  errors  are  forgiven  ; 

If  God  of  mercy  be  a  God, 

Our  love  shall  bloom  in  heaven, 


THE  BRIDAL  DAY. 


"  To  day  shall  be  our  bridal  day!" 
How  blest  was  either  thus  to  say, 
As  he  was  from  his  true-love  turning, 
(His  kisses  on  her  brow  still  burning,) 
To  wait  the  hour  when  they  should  meet, 
To  pledge  their  truth  at  Hymen's  feet. 

The  hour  expected  now  is  near, 
And  soon  her  lover  will  appear, 
To  lead  her  to  the  altar  side,; 
Thus  fondly  thinks  the  promis'd  bride. 
Is  that  his  step  ?  she  runs, — she  flies, — 
'Tis  not  her  lover  meets  her  eyes, 
With  troubled  brow,  and  bath'd  in  tears, 
The  brother  of  her  love  appears. 


(          134          ) 

"  Where  is  my  Edgar?  where?"  she  cried, 

He  answer'd  not,  but  at  his  side 

He  led  her  to  the  bridal  hall ; 

The  bridal  guests  were  thronging  all 

With  eager  gaze  one  spot  around : — 

She  rush'd — and  there  her  Edgar  found 

Bereft  of  life!  for  so  they  said, 

Her  Edgar,  her  beloved  was  dead ! 

Yet  never  wore  that  noble  brow 

A  look  more  calm  and  proud  than  now : 

Nor  even  love's  keen  eyes  could  trace 

The  change  of  death  upon  his  face  ; 

And  it  were  vain  upon  his  cheek 

Corruption's  paly  robe  to  seek, 

For  still  that  cheek  appeared  to  wear 

The  rose  of  beauty  blooming  there ; 

Nor  from  his  lip  the  soft  deep  red, 

That  there  had  blush'd  in  life,  was  fled ; 

His  ringlets  floated  in  the  sighs 

Of  those  who  bovv'd  their  weeping  eyes  ; 

Save  that,  his  eyes  to  curtain,  met 

The  lilly  and  the  violet, 

You  could  not  in  his  features  see 

A  trait  but  what  in  life  might  be  ; 

Nay  his  fair  lids  so  sweetly  laid 

The  beauteous  stars  beneath  to  shade, 

And,  playing  on  his  lips,  was  seen 

A  smile  so  lovely  and  serene, 


(         135         ) 

You  might  have  said,  "  Can  death  be  this? 
Then  death  is  but  a  dream  of  bliss !" 

She  spoke  not, — wept  not, — but  beside 
Her  lover,  knelt  the  widow'd  bride  : 
And  then  some  thought  they  heard  her  say. 
'•  To  day  shall  be  our  bridal  day!" 

They  spoke--she  mov'd  not,~from  the  ground 
They  rais'd  her, — and  her  spirit  found 
Departed  to  her  lover's,  where 
No  power  their  ties  apart  might  tear ; 
Their  love  immortally  shall  bloom 
Whose  bridal  bed  is  in  the  tomb. 


TO  JULIA  MARIA 


WHEN  thou  in  beauty's  pride  shalt  bloom, 

Whose  tints  are  dawning  o'er  thee  now, 
These  limbs  may  wither  in  the  tomb, 

And  reptiles  clasp  this  aching  brow  ; 
And  when  these  eyes,  that  love  to  dwell 

Upon  thee  with  affection's  ray, 
Have  bid  to  thee  and  all  farewell, 

Thine  own  may  dwell  upon  this  lay ; 


(         136         ) 

The  lay  that  when  thy  beauty's  flower 
Scarce  from  the  infant  bud  had  sprung, 

To  chase  a  pain'd  and  idled  hour, 
Beneath  my  fever'd  fingers  rung. 

And  thou  perhaps  wilt  think  upon 

The  transient  moments  that  we  met ; 
Yes,  thou  wilt  then  remember  one 

Whom  few  have  loved  or  will  regret! 
Remember,  when  this  heart  is  still, 

Its  prayer  was  breathed,  while  yet  it  beat, 
That  mental  nor  external  ill 

My  Julia's  years  to  come  should  meet ; 
That  never  her  dear  brow  consign'd 

Might  be,  to  pangs  that  burn  mine  own ; 
Nor  the  dark  clouds  that  shade  my  mind, 

On  hers  by  guilt  or  grief  be  thrown. 


(          137          ) 

ODE  FOR  THE  NEW- YEAR,  1826. 


How  many  are  now  in  the  cold  grave  reposing 

Who  welcom'd  the  dawn  of  the  year  that  has 

fled! 
How  little,  alas!  did  they  think  that  its  closing 

Should  find  them  enshrin'd  in  the  urn  of  the 

dead ! 
How  many  a  bosom,  now  bounding  as  lightly, 

Shall  yield  its  last  throb,  and  be  motionless  laid  ; 
The  spark  of  existence,  now  beaming  so  brightly, 

Extinguish'd  forever  in  sepulchral  shade  : 
How  many  this  year  to  the  grave's  dark  dominions 

Shall  hasten,  who  welcome  its  rising  career, 
Ere  time  once  again  on  his  air-feather' d  pinions 

Shall  usher  the  dawn  of  another  New- Year! 

Audi,  who  now  muse  on  the  thousands  departed, 
May  follow  them  ere  the  return  of  this  day, 

Bedew'd  with  the  tears  of  some  friend  broken 
hearted, 
Who  now  smiles  upon  me  unthinking  and  gay : 

And  better  than  I  should  survive  to  deplore  them. 
The  few  that  to  share  my  affections  remain, 

O  better  by  far  T  should  perish  before  them, 

Nor  hail  the  return  of  a  New- Year  again. 
a  2 


(         138         ) 

The  hearts  that  now  love  me,  will  they  not  re 
gret  me, 

Shall  ever  my  memory  cease  to  be  dear? 
The  friends  of  my  bosom, — O  can  they  forget  me, 

If  swept  from  their  sight  by  the  close  of  the  year? 

If  all  I  have  lov'd  have  repaid  my  affections 

With  ardour  unbounded,  unfeigned  as  mine  own, 
My  name,  in  the   hearts    of   my   friends    and 
connexions, 

Shall  ever  be  cherish'd  on  memory's  throne  j 
But  little  it  then  will  avail  to  me,  whether 

Remember'd  by  those  I  have  lov'd,  or  forgot ; 
In  mansions  of  bliss  when  united  together, 

On  earth  if  they  valued  my  friendship  or  not, 
.Love  breathing  around  in  the  zephyrs  of  heaven 

Shall  each  to  the  other  forever  endear, 
Whom  there  our  Redeemer  a  mansion  has  given 

To  live  and  to  love  through  Eternity's  Year. 


PARAPHRASE  OF 

OSSIAN's  ADDRESS  TO  THE  SUN. 


O  thou  that  rollest  o'er  thy  fields 

Of  azure,  in  etherial  height, 
Round  as  my  brave-arm'd  fathers'  shields. 

Whence  are  thy  beams,  O  Sun!  thy  light— 


(          139         ) 

Thine  everlasting  light !  when  springs 

Thine  awful  beauty  forth;  a  veil 
Around  the  trembling  stars  it  flings, 

And  the  dim  moon  sinks  cold  and  pale 
Beneath  the  western  wave ;  but  thou 

Rejoicest  in  thy  course  alone  : 
The  mountain  oaks  to  time  shall  bow ; 

The  mountain's  selves  be  overthrown  ; 
The  ocean  shrinks  and  grows  again ; 

The  moon  herself  is  lost  in  heaven ; 
But  thou  the  same  shalt  ever  reign, 

In  car  of  burning  glory  driven ! 
When  tempests  dark  the  world  deform, 

When  thunder  rolls  and  lightning  flies, 
In  beauty,  laughing  at  the  storm, 

Burst  from  the  clouds  thy  dazzling  eyes, 
Thou  lookest  forth — but  not  to  me, — 

Thy  glories  to  my  sight  are  lost ; 
Thy  beauteous  beams  I  may  not  see, 

Whether  thy  yellovv  hair  be  tost 
Athwart  the  eastern  cloud  on  high, 

Or  at  the  portals  of  the  west 
Thou  tremblest.  ere  thou  leav'st  the  sky. 

In  ocean's  lap  to  sink  to  rest. 


(         140         ) 
HORACE,  LIB.  1st.  ODE  5th. 

TO  PYRRHA. 


For  whom  in  undulating  tresses 

Does  Pyrrha  wreath  her  golden  hair? 
What  slender  youth,  who  lightly  presses 

A  bed  of  roses,  courts  thee  there? 
Bedew'd  with  an  ambrosial  river, 

The  credulous  lover  little  dreams 
The  bark  of  pleasure  storms  shall  shiver, 

Now  dancing  o'er  those  fragrant  streams. 

Alas !  how  oft  of  changeful  heaven 

And  broken  faith,  shall  he  complain, 
Who  now,  to  thy  delusions  given, 

Enjoys  a  dream  so  bright,  so  vain ! 
When  he  beholds  the  face  of  ocean 

Roughen'd  with  bkck'ning  winds,  and  views 
The  storms  unwonted,  whose  commotion 

His  paradise  in  ruin  strews! 

Unhappy  all  to  thee  a  stranger 

Who  think  that  thou  art  fair!  for  me, — 

Escap'd  from  their  impending  danger, 
The  stern  controller  of  the  sea 


Beholds  upon  his  shrine  suspended 
My  garments,  dripping  from  the  main. 

The  wreck,  whose  perils  now  are  ended, 
To  call  to  memor    aain. 


I  LOVED  THEE  EVER   DEARLY. 


DELUSIVE  maid,  who  in  my  breast 

The  passion  didst  awaken, 
Whose  influence  is  still  confest, 

Though  I  am  thus  forsaken  ; 
Though  by  thy  falsehood  doom'd  to  part 

From  one  I  lov'd  sincerely, 
I  could  not  tear  thee  from  my  heart, 

But  lov?d  thee  ever  dearly ! 

O  never  may  the  faithless  heart, 

That  once  to  me  was  given, 
Endure  the  agonizing  smart 

Of  vows  by  others  riven ! 
May  he  thou  hast  to  me  prefer'd, 

Repay  thy  love  sincerely, 
Nor  falsely  speak  the  tender  word. 

"I'll  love  thee  ever  dearly!" 


Farewell— I  shall  not  meet  again 

With  thee,— O  never,  never! 
On  earth  I  may  no  more  remain, 

Farewell — farewell  forever! 
He  comes,— the  welcome  angel  death, 

And  Oh  it  is  sincerely 
I  tell  thee,  with  my  dying  breath, 

I  lov'd  thee  ever  dearly! 

May  my  departing  spirit  crave 

Thy  thoughts  beyond  to-morrow? 
Say  wilt  thou  ever  seek  my  grave 

To  drop  the  tear  of  sorrow? 
O  if  upon  my  lifeless  clay 

That  tear  is  dropt  sincerely, 
My  spirit  will  arise  to  say, 

"  I  lov'd  thee  ever  dearly!" 


THE  EVER  BLOOMING  FLOWER 

THE  OLD  MAN's  SONG. 


ELIZA,  we  were  in  our  May 
When  first  I  call'd  thee  mine  ; 

But  though  our  youth  has  flown  away 
My  heart  continues  thine  : 


(          143         ) 

Though  every  charm  by  thee  possest 

Receding  years  devour, 
Love  flourishes  within  my  breast, 

The  ever  blooming  flower. 

With  thee  encircled  in  these  aims, 

Our  youth  returns  again  ; 
And  memory  recals  the  charms 

The  eye  would  trace  in  vain  : 
The  rose  must  like  those  charms  decay. 

The  pride  of  Flora's  bower, 
But  love  can  never  fade  away, 

The  ever  blooming  flower* 

When  death  with  his  commission  dread 

Beside  us  shall  appear, 
Xo  thorns  shall  strew  our  dying  bed, 

For  love  shall  banish  fear  : 
We  cannot  fly  the  tyrant's  doom, 

But  may  contemn  his  power, 
For  love  shall  flourish  on  our  tomb, 

The  ever  blooming  flower. 


(          144          ) 

TO  ELIZABETH 


THE  dawning  bloom  of  youth  appears 

Its  tints  upon  thy  cheek  to  throw, 
Which  in  a  few  succeeding  years 

With  those  of  womanhood  will  glow  ; 
But  what  are  the  carnation  dye, 

The  ruby  lip, — the  brow  of  snow ; 
The  laughing,  sparkling,  melting,  eye ; 

The  ringlets'  wild  luxuriant  flow ; 
And  all  external  charms  combin'd, 
To  those  which  beautify  the  mind  ? 

All  beauty  is  by  that  surpast 

Which  awes  the  heart  its  fetters  bind ; 
Let  modesty  around  thee  cast 

That  brightest  charm  of  womankind ; 
And  may  thy  lips  celestial  truth 

Her  holy  accents  breathe  upon ; 
That,  while  recedes  the  bloom  of  youth, 

Esteem  undying  may  be  won ; 
The  charms  of  virtue  thou  canst  save, 
Triumphant  over  beauty's  grave. 

A  stranger  to  affliction's  sighs, 
To  thee  be  ev'ry  blessing  known ; 


(          145      I) 

Yet  with  the  wretched  sympathize, 
To  whom  a  darker  fate  is  shown ; 

The  tear  that  mourns  another's  pain 
In  beauty's  eye  a  gem  appears, 

Her  power  resistless  to  enchain 

Our  homage,  when  compassion's  tears 

Glitter  upon  her  cheek,  resembling 

The  dew  on  blushing  leaflets  trembling. 

Be  virtue  thine, — and  though  the  power 

Of  time  may  dim  that  sparkling  eye, 
Sweep  from  thy  cheek  each  blushing  flower. 

And  bid  thine  ev'ry  beauty  die ; 
If  only  outward  charms  were  given, 

Though  such  as  all  the  world  admire. 
The  brightest,  loveliest  under  heaven, 

Would  fail  the  homage  to  inspire, 
Thou  shalt  from  every  heart  obtain 
When  virtue's  charms  alone  remain. 


ONE  KISS  BEFORE  WE  PART. 


ONE  kiss  before  we  part,  love, 
Ere  o'er  the  waters  blue 

Yon  bark,  too  swiftly  bounding, 
Shall  waft  me  from  thy  view ! 

N 


O  let  thy  lips  infuse,  love, 
Their  balm  into  my  heart  ; 

To  soothe  this  hour  of  pain,  bestow 
One  kiss  before  we  part  ! 

One  kiss  before  we  part,  love, 

That  till  we  meet  again 
My  dearest  hopes  may  cherish, 

Though  all  those  hopes  be  vain  ; 
O  say  not  they  are  vain,  love, 

To  wring  this  doating  heart, 
But  give,  though  but  in  kind  deceit, 

One  kiss  before  we  part  ! 


FAREWELL  TO  EMMA. 


To  thee  when  I  resign'd  my  heart, 

And  in  return  thine  own  was  given, 
I  little  thought  that  we  should  part, 

That  I  should  lose  the  earthly  heaven, 
From  which  I  now,  alas !  am  hurl'd 

Into  the  gulf  of  misery, 
While  none  is  left  in  all  the  world 

To  love,  or  be  belov'd  by  me ! 


(          147          ) 

Yes — there  is  one — We  have  not  yet 

RecalVl  the  hearts  we  once  exchanged : 
And  never,  never  can  forget, 

Though  now  eternally  estranged, 
The  raptures  we  together  kne\v, 

As  roving  by  each  others  side. 
Believing  all  our  visions  true, 

I  haiPd  in  thee  my  future  bride. 
Upon  our  lips  the  fatal  wand 

Of  silence,  is  forever  laid  ; 
But  lovers  well  can  understand 

The  language  in  the  eyes  pourtray'd  ; 
And  when  thine  eyes  encounterd  mine, — 

But  why  thus  madly  backward  throw7 
Our  glance  to  joys  we  must  resign, 

\\  hose  memory  augments  our  woe  ? 
I  dare  not  meet  those  eyes  again, 

Their  tenderness  the  heart  would  burst 
That,  like  thine  own,  so  long  in  vain 

The  hopeless  flame  within  has  nurst. 
The  arms,  to  whose  embrace  I  sprung 

Before  we  parted  in  despair, 
Those  arms  would  still  be  open  flung, 

And  bid  me  find  a  welcome  there  ; 
The  lips  that  mine  so  oft  have  prest 

Again  with  mine  their  breath  would  blend. 
I  might  be,  as  I  have  been,  blest 

Did  all  alone  on  love  depend  ; 


(         148         ) 

But  ah!  that  fatal  bar  between, 

We  may  not, — dare  not  overthrow ! 
If  this  in  time  had  been  foreseen, 

Not  now  such  anguish  should  we  know  ! 
If  hope  had  never  fan'd  our  flame, 

By  time  or  absence  it  might  die, 
But  now  it  still  must  burn  the  same, 

While  years  on  years  receding  fly ; 
And  though  again  we  dare  not  meet, 

Our  hearts  with  one  another  dwell, 
And  we  forever  must  repeat, 

"  To  thee — but  not  to  love — Farewell!" 


FAIR  ADELAIDE. 


•;  THEY  forc'd  my  love  to  yonder  tower 

To  listen  to  a  hated  tale ; 
But  when  oppos'd  to  tyrant  power 

Can  love  to  prove  triumphant  fail  ? 
To  arms,  my  friends !  to  arms !  away ! 
For  beauty's  tears  forbid  delay ; 
And  this  shall  be  our  battle  cry, 
Fair  Adelaide  and  Victory!" 


(          149          ) 

"  Fair  Adelaide  arid  Victory !" 

ExuUing  they  repeat  the  sound 
Sebastian  with  a  startled  eye 

Beholds  the  threatening  foe  around  : 
;i  To  aims!  to  arms!"  Sebastian  cries, 
"  To  arms'/'  His  enemy  replies, 
"  For  we  to-day  must  do  or  die 
For  Adelaide  and  Victory!" 

The  gallant  band  the  portals  gain : 
Sebastian  with  a  maniac's  ire 

Attempts  to  check  their  way  in  vain; 
They  rush  like  an  impetuous  fire 

Consuming  all  before  their  path — 

The  trembling  vassals  fly  their  wrath. 

The  victors  shouting,  as  they  fly. 

"  Fair  Adelaide  and  Victory!" 

Amid  the  thickest  of  the  fight 

Impetuously  the  lover  dasivd. 
And  with  a  meteor's  fearful  light 

Among  the  foe  his  weapon  flash'd, 
Its  lightning  sweep  so  terrible 
It  witherd  all  on  whom  it  fell! 
He  shouted,  as  it  wav'd  on  high, 
"  Fair  Adelaide  and  Victory !" 


Sebastian  in  his  father's  halls 
Has  sunk  beneath  his  rival's  blade, 

Who  rushes  from  the  hated  walls 
To  bear  away  his  lovely  maid ; 

Encircled  in  her  hero's  arms, 

The  heart  that  throb'd  with  wild  alarms. 

Now  beats  with  transport,  as  they  cry, 

-:  Fair  Adelaide  and  Victory!" 


INCONSTANCY. 


WHEN  with  Eliza  meeting 
Joy  kindled  in  her  eyes, 

How  blissful  was  the  greeting  I 
But  rapture  quickly  flies ; 

A  woman's  love  is  fleeting, 
And  in  its  bloom  it  dies. 

/V  woman's  love  is  seeming, 

'  A  woman's  smiles  deceive, 
And  those  are  idly  dreaming 

AVho  woman's  lips  believe, 
Or  from  her  eye's  mild  beaming 

A  ray  of  bliss  receive. 


Though  now  so  ill  requited 

By  her  that  I  adore  ; 
Though  all  my  hopes  are  blighted  r 

And  she  will  smile  no  more  : 
Though  in  despair  benighted, 

I  have  been  blest  before. 

Though  every  former  favour 

Has  melted  into  air, 
My  love  shall  never  waver, 

Unshaken  by  despair, 
But  on  my  heart  engrave  her. 

To  dwell  forever  there. 


MY  CHILDHOOD. 


MY  childhood  scenes  !  Oh  where  are  they  ? 

I  now  am  but  in  boyhood's  years, 
Yet  on  no  scene  my  glance  can  stray 

To  memory  one  trace  endears 

Of  childhood's  smiles,  or  childhood's  tears  ; 
I  look  at  every  spot  so  strange,  — 

So  alter'd  now,  —  and  then  I  say, 
While  pain'd  my  heart  remarks  the  change, 

"  My  childhood  scenes  !  Oh  where  are  they  ?" 


(          132         ) 

My  childhood  friends !  Oh  where  are  they  ? 

The  dearest  in  the  grave  recline, 
And  others  long  estrang'd  away 

Forget  they  e'er  were  friends  of  mine ; 

And  yet  I  never  can  resign 
The  memory  of  even  such 

As  least  repaid  affection's  sway ; 
But  still  this  thought  my  soul  must  touch, 

"  My  childhood  friends!  Oh  where  are  they  ?" 

My  childhood  joys!  Oh  where  are  they  ? 

And  where  the  innocence,  which  gave 
To  every  joy  its  purest  ray  ? 

Those  joys  have  found  an  early  grave  ; — 

That  innocence! — Oh  could  J  save 
The  innocence  of  childhood's  hour, 

Not  thus  should  I  be  sorrow's  prey, 
Nor  sigh,  beneath  affliction's  shower, 

"  My  childhood  joys!  Oh  where  are  they  ?" 

Where  is  my  childhood  now  ?  And  where 

Shall  be  my  youth  ? — Its  every  joy  ? — 
Its  every  scene  ? — But  heaven  spare 

\\sfriendS)  whatever  time  destroy  ; 

And  if  some  feelings  yet  employ 
My  mind,  which  heav'n  may  pure  esteem. 

Oh !  may  I  not  the  horror  bear 
To  say,  when  launch'd  on  manhood's  stream, 

"  Where  are  such  feelings  now!  Ah  where  2r? 


153 


COME  TO  MY  HO3IE 


OH!  come,  my  love,  Come  to  my  home  with  me. 
Tho'  there  not  the  grandeur  of  thine  thou  wilt  see, 
But  poverty's  traces  alone  will  discover, 
Yet  be  what  it  may, — 'tis  the  home  of  thy  lover. 

From  this  palace  of  pride  though  I  call  thee  away 
For  a  moment,  believe  not  I'd  urge  thee  to  stay ; 
Come,  love,  for  a  moment,  then  leave  it  forever, — 
And  a  charm  will  remain  that  can  fade  from  it 
never. 

For  if  thou  wilt  leave  thy  dear  image  behind. 
When  thickest  and  darkest  my  evils  I  find, 
I  will  turn  to  my  home,  in  the  hour  of  my  sorrow, 
From  that  image  a  charm  that  may  soothe  me  to 
borrow. 

My  home  once  possest  all  the  pride  of  thine  own, 
And  the  fortune  was  mine  that  before  thee  is 

thrown ; 

But  mine  only  regret  o'er  the  wreck  of  my  splendor 
Is  that  to  my  dearest  I  nothing  may  tender. 


(          154         ) 

For  my  hand  too  exalted  and  worthy  thou  art; — 

J  nothing  can  offer  to  thee  but  my  heart ; 

And  that  heart  better  knows  what  a  lover  should 

owe  thee, 
That  to  wish  thee  a  fortune  in  all  things  below  thee. 

But  come  to  my  home,  and  let  there  be  imprest 
Thine  image,  the  dearest  enshrin'd  in  my  breast ; 
When  that  image  is  there  it  will  more  than  recover 
The  charms  that  have  fled  from  the  home  of  thy 
lover. 


THE  CHARMS  OF  WOMAN. 


THE  bright  sparkling  stars  we  admire, 

And  the  beams  from  Apollo  that  blaze ; 
And  we  worship  the  lovelier  fire 

In  the  soft  eyes  of  Woman  that  plays : 
The  bloom  of  the  flourishing  roses 

Delight  to  the  eyes  can  impart ; 
And  the  bloom  that  dear  Woman  discloses 

Has  far  more  delight  for  the  heart. 

How  sweetly  the  zephyrs  are  throwing 

The  fragrance  they  snatch  from  the  flowers — 


(          155          ) 

How  sweeter  the  breath  that  is  flowing 
From  the  pure  lips  of  Woman  to  ours ! 

Whatever  around  thee  thou  meetest 
The  spell  of  delight  that  can  lend, 

The  brightest, — the  fairest, — the  sweetest. 
In  Woman  far  lovelier  blend. 

The  charms  which  she  lends  to  the  senses 

No  charms  upon  earth  can  excel. 
Save  those  which  her  spirit  dispenses 

To  lay  on  our  spirit  a  spell. 
Her  eyes  have  a  heavenly  splendor, 

But  if  virtue  have  kindled  its  star 
In  her  soul,  its  resplendence  will  lend  her 

A  light  that  is  lovelier  far. 

If  the  soil  of  her  spirit  should  bear  her 

The  flowers  that  from  virtue  are  sprung, 
Oh  who  but  would  think  them  much  fairer 

Than  those  on  her  cheek  that  are  flung! 
Her  breath  has  a  sweetness  when  blending 

With  ours,  in  the  pure  kiss  of  love ; — 
Far  sweeter  that  breath  were,  ascending 

In  prayer  to  her  Maker  above. 

When  in  one  all  the  charms  are  united 
On  the  soul  and  the  senses  that  steal, — 

When  we  gaze  on  her  softness  delighted, 
Or  when  to  her  brightness  we  kneel, 


(         156         ) 

However  those  beauties  may  ravish 

And  fetter  the  soul  and  the  eyes, 
Not  on  them  all  our  thoughts  should  we  lavish, 

But  spare  one  at  least  for  the  skies. 

If  the  light  of  her  eyes  we  admire, 

Oh !  what  is  the  glory  of  Him 
From  whom  heaven's  eyes  have  the  fire 

To  which  even  beauty's  were  dim — 
Who  the  blaze  to  Apollo  has  given 

Which  th$  stars  to  behold  cannot  bear — 
What  splendor  on  earth  or  in  heaven 

Can  with  its  Creator's  compare  ? 

If  all  the  creation  discloses 

Such  beauty,  our  homage  to  claim, 
How  awful  a  beauty  reposes 

On  the  brow  of  the  God  whence  it  came! 
When  Woman  upon  you  has  laid  her 

Control,  while  you  love  and  adore 
Oh!  think  of  the  Being  who  made  her, 

And  love  Him  and  worship  Him  more ! 


157 


THE  SUN  OF  OUR  LOT. 


THE  day  soon  recedes  for  the  night, 

And  the  night  soon  recedes  for  the  day, 
And  thus,  when  our  fortune  is  bright 

Soon  darkness  will  chase  it  away ; 
Yet  none  should  despair  who  are  laid 

In  gloom,  for  ere  long  they  may  learn 
That  the  light,  though  it  swiftly  may  fade, 

As  swiftly  again  will  return. 

If  the  sun  never  shrouded  his  blaze, 

The  eyes  of  poor  mortals  would  find 
The  longer  he  dazzled  their  gaze 

The  more  to  his  light  they  were  blind ; 
And  the  sun  of  our  lot  would,  like  him, 

To  brighten  our  hearts  lose  the  claim, 
And  all  of  its  rays  seem  but  dim, 

If  those  rays  were  forever  the  same. 

The  sun  most  resplendent  appears 

When  bursting  the  cloud  o'er  him  flung. 

And  nothing  so  pleasure  endears 
As  that  it  from  sorrow  has  sprung. 


(          158         ) 

If  to  heaven  with  thanks  we  are  bow'd 
For  the  sun  it  has  given  to  bless, 

Why  should  we  repine  at  the  cloud 
That  was  given  in  mercy  no  less  ? 

For  good  we  our  Maker  adore. 

Nor  less  when  enshrouded  in  ill 
Adoring  should  bend  Him  before, 

For  good  will  return  to  us  still ; 
Then  none  should  despair  who  are  laid 

In  gloom,  for  ere  long  they  may  learn 
That  the  light,  though  it  swiftly  may  fade, 

As  swiftly  again  will  return. 


THE  SHORE  OF  HEAVEN. 


THOU  hast  gone  away  o'er  the  stormy  main, 

Nor  we  know  where  thy  bark  may  be, 
Nor  when  thy  returning  sail  again 

The  friends  of  thy  heart  may  see ; 
But  thou  canst  believe,  where'er  thou  art. 

That  thither  my  mind  extends, 
And  where'er  thou  goest  thou  bearest  the  heart 

Of  one,  at  leastj  of  thy  friends. 


(          159          ) 

If  1  am  calm  when  the  tempest  raves, 

'Tis  not  that  I  have  forgot 
How  thou  art  expos' d  on  the  tossing  waves, 

Where  peril  attends  thy  lot ; 
But  'tis  that  I  know  to  thy  gallant  soul 

The  storm  is  more  welcome  than  dread, 
For  thou  lovest  to  see  the  surges  roll 

When  the  clouds  burst  over  thy  head. 

And  'tis  that  I  know  the  prayers,  which  rise 

From  an  innocent  heart  for  thee, 
Will  waft  thee  safe  under  frowning  skies, 

And  over  the  madden'd  sea ; 
For  she,  whose  heart  I  had  hop'd  to  share, 

Till  I  found  that  it  all  was  thine, 
Will  shield  thy  dear  head  with  many  a  prayer, 

As  wild  as,  and  purer  than  mine. 

When  thou  shalt  return  to  thy  native  land, 

In  her  to  welcome  thy  bride ; — 
When  thou  shalt  receive  from  her  the  hand, 

That  was  to  thy  friend  denied ; 
To  the  ocean  of  bliss,  where  launch'd  will  be, 

The  bark  of  thy  soul,  may  be  given 
No  shore  to  bound  such  a  fairy  sea, 

Except  the  bright  shore  of  heaven. 


(          160         ) 

DELUDED  LOVE 


How  oft  enjoying  at  thy  side 

The  hours  of  all  my  life  the  brightest, 
I  felt  the  hopes  upon  me  glide 

Which  now,  delusive  maid,  thou  blightest! 
I  own  my  doom  to  lose  thee  just ; 

'Twas  mad  to  think  thou  e'er  couldst  love  me 
But  still  I  might  deserve  thy  trust, 

Whoe'er  thy  heart  prefers  above  me. 

Jn  thee  a  kindred  flame  to  dare 

Expect,  alas !  was  frenzied  blindness ; 
And  ev'n  the  wish  that  thou  wouldst  share 

A  lot  like  mine  was  but  unkindness ; 
For  never  lot  than  mine  was  worse, — 

Its  gloom  extends  to  my  connexions, 
And  thee  might  shadow  with  its  curse 

If  we  were  link'din  our  affections. 

Nor  one  so  stain'd  with  sin  and  shame 
Could  merit  thee,  an  earthly  heaven ; 

For  deeds  that  thou  wouldst  shrink  to  name, 
And  thoughts  that  scarce  may  be  forgiven, 

Have  oft  polluted  me,  while  thou 
Hast  ever  been  so  pure, — so  holy, — 


(     161     y 

We  read  upon  thy  sainted  brow 
That  thou  art  mark'd  for  heaven  solely. 

Alone  can  to  thy  charge  be  laid 

Thou  wrong'dst  me  by  unkind  dissembling : 
The  hopes  were  well  to  thee  betray'd 

Which  in  my  foolish  heart  were  trembling : 
In  justice  to  me  thou  shouldst  all 

As  soon  as  thou  hadst  mark'd  them  smother ; 
Shouldst  tell  me  what  I  fain  would  call 

Mine  own,  was  given  to  another. 

But  no — it  was  conceal'd, — and  more — 

It  was  denied! — hadst  thou  not  spoken 
That  falsehood — had  I  known  before 

What  now  to  know  my  heart  has  broken. — 
Though  ill  I  could  the  shock  sustain, 

Of  every  hope  my  heart  bereaving, 
I  could  not  then  as  now  complain 

Of  wrong  in  thy  unkind  deceiving. 

I  blame  thee  not  that  thou  couldst  know 
For  him  than  me  a  gentler  feeling, 

Nor  would  I  blame  upon  thee  throw 
For  not  thine  every  thought  revealing ; 

But  when  thou  didst  profane  thy  tongue 
With  falsehood.— when  thou  didst  deny  it. 
o2 


To  cherish  hopes  that  thus  have  wrung 
My  heart,  didst  thou  not  wrong  me  by  it? 

1  might  at  least  deserve  thy  trust, 

Although  I  nothing  else  could  merit ; 
I  might  have  been  forewarn'd  I  must 

Resign  the  hopes,  which  could  inherit 
But  disappointment  and  distress — 

Oh  hadst  thou  more  sincerely  spoken, — 
Had  or  my  hope  or  love  been  less, 

My  heart  were  ne'er  so  rudely  broken  I 


THE  NIGHTLY  MOURNER. 


WHEN  the  fair  moon  sails  along 
Smiling  on  her  bright-ey'd  throng, 
From  the  lonely  one,  who  now 
On  the  cold  sod  hides  his  brow, 
Thus  his  bitter  plaint  she  hears 
'Echo  through  his  night  of  tears  : 

"  Shine  not,  empress  of  the  night, 
Veil  in  clouds  thy  beauteous  light, 
Bid  the  eyes  that  gem  thy  throne 
Look  not  on  me  where  I  groan ; 


(         163         ) 

For  unnotic'd  T  would  weep 
"Where  Clarinda's  ashes  sleep. 

When  I  look  upon  the  skies 
Bright  and  azure  as  the  eyes 
That  shall  never  beam  again, 
Grief  impassion'd  turns  my  brain ! 
Are  those  gems  of  starry  light 
Quench'd  in  an  eternal  night  ? 

Flowrers  that  blush  around  her  tomb, 
She  is  faded, — can  ye  bloom  ? 
Since  the  sweetest  flower  has  fled 
In  the  grave  to  hide  its  head, 
Never  more  to  bloom  again, 
Why  in  mockery  remain  ? 

Darkness,  come !  I  bid  thee  hail ! 
Wrap  me  in  thy  cloudy  veil, 
That  mine  eye  may  nothing  meet 
Which  is  bright,  or  fair,  or  sweet, 
.Lest  its  beauties  seem  to  scorn 
Her  whom  they  no  more  adorn* 

Though  her  love  repaid  me  not 
Mine  can  never  be  forgot ! 
Wrould  she  might  again  arise, 
With  the  lightnings  in  her  eyes 


(          164         ) 

Which  were  oft  in  anger  cast 

On  the  love  they  could  not  blast ; — 

With  the  lips,  (which  reptiles  kiss !) 
Wreath'd,  though  but  in  bitterness, 
Beautiful  as  when  in  pride 
They  mine  every  hope  denied ; 
And  with  brow  again  as  fair, 
But  again  a  frown  to  wear — 

Nay, — do  I  the  pangs  forget 
From  her  with'ring  frown  I  met  ? 
Shall  I  brave  the  curse  once  more* 
Which  I  ill  could  bear  before  ? 
Would  she  liv'd,— but  not  for  me,— 
Her  I  never  more  would  see. 

Bid  me  not  to  turn  mine  eyes 
From  her  grave  to  yonder  skies ; 
Stern  would  be  my  welcome,  even 
Should  we  meet  in  yonder  heaven ! 
There  I'd  writhe  beneath  her  frown,- 
Here  unreck'd  I  lay  me  down." 


163 


LOVE :  AN  APOLOGY. 


THERE  is  a  flame,  (but  not  the  flame 
Of  love,  though  it  usurps  the  name,) 
Which  kindles  oft  at  beauty's  eyes, 
And  even  as  it  kindles  dies  ; 
It  is  not  love,  though  love  it  seems, 
And  even  he  who  feels  it  dreams 
That  love  indeed  his  heart  inspires ; 
Love  kindles  not  such  fickle  fires. 

That  flame,  it  cannot  be  denied, 

Within  me  oft  has  glow'd  and  died ; 

My  heart  its  changing  sway  obey'd, 

And  wander'd  still  from  maid  to  maid  ; 

And  each  whose  spell  was  on  me  cast 

Appear'cl  more  lovely  than  the  last ; 

And  none  1  woo'd  but  I  believ'd 

I  lov'd  her  ;  she  perhaps  receiv'd 

The  thought  then  mine,  which  soon  I  knew> 

And  she  as  soon  perceiv'd,  untrue. 

I've  thought  of  one  by  day  and  night ; 
Mine  only  heav'n  was  in  her  sight ; 
And  rather  than  be  doom'd  to  stay 
One  moment's  space  from  her  away 


(          166         ) 

I  would  the  direst  torture  bear; 
Her  name  I  blest  in  ev'ry  prayer, 
And  to  that  name  I  bade  aspire 
The  proudest  accents  of  my  lyre  ; 
No  vision  fancy  could  create 
Of  bliss  for  my  hereafter  fate, 
But  imag'd  her,  with  smile  serene, 
Brightening  still  the  brightest  scene. 
I  clung  to  her  for  years  and  years, 
Alike  unchang'd  in  smiles  and  tears ; — 
And  was  it  love  ?  You  think  it  so. — 
But  was  it  love  indeed  ?  Ah  no ! 

1  found  her  worthless, — from  my  heart 
I  bade  her  image  then  depart ; — 
Had  love  been  in  that  heart,  it  sure 
Had  broken,  ere  it  could  endure 
That  image  to  renounce,  despite 
Her  worthlessness.     There  is  no  blight 
Which  change  of  fortune, — loss  of  fame, 
Or  stain  of  guilt,  can  ever  claim 
A  power  to  throw  on  the  control 
Of  love,  that  once  has  fir'd  the  soul. 

Then  blame  me  not,  ungentle  maid, 
Nor  with  inconstancy  upbraid, 
Nor  say  I  oft  have  Love  forgot,— 
How  could  I,  when  I  knew  him  not  ? 


(         167         ) 

But  in  my  heart  thou  now  canst  read 
That  Love  has  enter'd  there  indeed  ; 
And  it  were  sacrilege  to  say 
That  Love  can  ever  fly  away 
From  any  hearts  that  him  receive  ;  — 
My  first,  my  last  belov'd,  believe 
He  in  my  heart  shall  reign  for  thee 
Through  time  and  through  eternity! 


ADDRESS, 

WTUTTEN  FOR  THE  OPENING  OF  THE  NEW-  YORK 
THEATRE. 


IN  life's  career  whatever  path  we  tread, 
The  thorns  of  Grief,  or  Pleasure's  flowery  bed. 
If  dark  or  bright  the  scene  before  our  eyes, 
To  others  still  the  mind  impatient  flies. 
Bidding  our  world's  realities  farewell 
For  dreams  created  by  the  Poet's  spell. 

Where  should  she  turn  but  where,  upon  the  wing 
Of  Fancy,  visionary  beings  spring ; 
Where  years  departed,  bursting  the  control 
Of  Time,  upon  our  gaze  returning  roll : 


(       '168         ) 

Where  heroes,  taught  by  Death  alone  to  yield, 
Recal'd  from  Death  again  alarm  the  field, 
Returning  all  their  grandeur  to  our  eyes, 
Their  proud  renown,  and  deeds  of  high  emprize ; 
Where  Desolation  shakes  her  flaming  brand ; 
Where  Carnage  clogs  in  gore  his  weapon'd  hand  ; 
Where  War  unveils  his  terrors,  to  o'er  whelm 
In  cataracts  of  blood  a  struggling  realm  ; 
Where  mad  Ambition's  step  triumphant  climbs 
Upon  the  necks  of  those  who  brave  his  crimes, 
Till  from  his  tow'ring  height  by  Vengeance  hurl'd, 
Amid  the  shouts  of  an  acclaiming  world  ; 
Or  where  the  gentler  passions  are  pourtray'd 
In  Love's  Romance,  or  Beauty's  Faith  display'd. 

Oh  thou,  the  mighty  wizard  of  the  heart, 
Who  bidst  at  will  our  ev'ry  passion  start, 
Immortal  Shakspeare !  to  thy  muse  divine 
We  raise  and  consecrate  another  shrine! 
Oh  be  not  vain  the  effort  to  display 
The  passions  breath'd  in  thine  inspiring  lay ; 
The  tyrant  fiend,  who  with  indignant  ire 
Thrills  every  bosom  known  to  generous  fire  ; 
The  struggles  of  a  great  and  guilty  mind, 
To  dark  ambition  and  remorse  consign'd  ; 
The  majesty  of  terror  thou  hast  thrown 
On  beings  call'd  by  thee  from  worlds  unknown  ; 


(         169         ) 

The  phantoms  of  the  slaughter'd  that  arise 

In  horror  to  enchain  the  guilty  eyes  ; 

The  shudd'ring  son  who  meets  the  awful  shade 

Of  him  a  brother's  hand  in  death  had  laid ; 

The  child-ckang^d  father,  from  his  offspring  driven, 

His  brain  on  fire, — his  heart  with  anguish  riven ; 

The  filial  duty  of  his  injur'd  child  ; 

The  jealous  madness  of  Suspicion  wild  5 

The  agony  of  the  repentant  Moor, 

As  lies  his  murderd  bride  his  gaze  before — 

These  if  the  stage  can  like  thy  muse  unfold, 

None  here  but  in  thy  sway  must  be  control'd. 

Nor  yet  the  tragic  muse  shall  reign  alone  ; 
The  mirthful  spirit  shall  divide  the  throne, 
Shall  bid  the  tear  in  Beauty's  starry  eye 
Trembling  upon  her  glitt'ring  pinions  fly; 
Shall  ride  within  her  dimpled  car  of  roses 
Where  Love  his  laughing  Paradise  discloses ; 
Around  her  heart  shall  throw  a  flow'ry  chain, 
And  wreath  her  lips  in  smiles  'twere  heav'n  to  gain. 

And  not  alone  the  lover  seeks  to  wrear 
Of  Beauty's  smile  the  trophy, — we  would  share 
Her  smile  approving,  which  alone  can  bless 
Our  efforts,  and  complete  them  with  success : 


(         170         ) 

Should   Beauty    smile,    who    then    that   would 

presume 

To  cloud  our  rising  sun  with  frowning  gloom  ? 
Since  all  are  sway'd  by  you,  to  you  ye  fair, 
Our  infant  stage  is  turn'd  for  fost'ring  care, 
And  if  ye  be  not  lovelier  than  kind 
It  claims  no  more  than  it  must  hope  to  find. 


SHE  LOVES  ME. 


SHE  loves  —  she  loves  me  !  —  spare  thy  warning- 

Say  not  I  oft  have  been  deceiv'd, 
And  found  at  last  the  flatterer's  scorning 

For  hopes  too  long,  too  well  believ'd. 
She  loves  me!  And  she  loves  me  dearly! 

Her  heart  has  breath'd  the  language  sweet! 
She  loves  me!  —  And  she  loves  sincerely  — 

For  she  —  Oh  can  she  know  deceit  ? 

She  is  too  young  for  a  deceiver  — 
Too  skilless  in  this  world  of  lies  ; 

And  shall  that  world  at  last  bereave  her 
Of  all  that  in  her  now  1  prize  ?  — 

Compel  her  artless  love  to  vanish 
For  levity's  unfeeling  mask  — 


And  teach  her,  truth  for  forms  to  banish  ? 
Accurst  be  Ihe  unholy  task ! 

Oh !  if  the  world  can  ever  change  thee — 

Pervert  thy  truth — thine  ardour  chill, — 
And  from  thy  once  belov'd  estrange  thee 

My  heart  will  break — indeed  it  will! 
But  not  a  moment  will  I  cherish 

Such  cruel  thought,  unjust  to  thee ; 
Oh !  can  a  love  so  guileless  perish  ? 

Ah  no!  Ah  no!  It  cannot  be! 

My  memory  shall  mark  as  holy 

The  dear,  dear  moment  that  I  prest 
My  lips  to  thine ;  for  then  was  solely 

Thine  own,  my  glowing  heart  confest ; 
Thine,  my  belov'd,  and  thine  forever ! — 

Hereafter  shouldst  thou  me  forsake 
Could  I  recal  my  heart  ?  Oh  never ! 

It  could  not  change — but  it  would  break! 

If  of  inconstancy  the  finger 

Profaning,  never  touch  thy  mind, 
Though  I  for  years  and  years  must  linger 

Before  my  hopes  completion  find, 
I  can  be  patient. — but  the  token 

Shouldst  thou  recal,  thy  love  once  gave, 
Mine  only  tie  of  life  thus  broken, 

I'd  rush  to  frenzy  or  the  grave ! 


THINK  OF  ME. 


WHEN  floods  of  light  upon  thee  break, 
From  heav'n,  a  heav'n  of  earth  to  make. 
And  one  thou  needest  to  partake 

The  splendor  on  thee  stealing ; 
Or  when  each  ray  of  splendor  dies, 
And  scowl  upon  thee  gloomy  skies, 
And  one  thou  need'st  to  sympathize 

With  desolated  feeling ; 
Or  when  thou  look'st  around  mankind. 
Nor  one  among  them  all  canst  find 
Who  has  with  thine  a  kindred  mind, 

When  earth  to  thee  is  drearest ; 
When  all  deny  affection's  balm 
The  fever  of  thy  soul  to  calm, 
Oh !  then  remember  where  I  am ! 

Oh !  think  upon  me,  dearest ! 

But  sure  it  cannot  be  decreed 
Protection  thou  shouldst  ever  need, 
Or  sympathy ;— thy  virtues  plead 

So  well  for  thee  with  heaven, 
Its  blessings  only  will  descend, 
And  earth  no  less  will  thee  befriend, — 
Ah !  that  I  might  as  well  depend, 

Upon  the  hope,  that  given 


To  me  a  thought  of  thine  can  be, 
While  all  around  thee  worship  thee  1 
But  if  thou  him  shouldst  wish  to  see 

Whose  ardour  is  sincerest  ; 
Whose  ev'ry  fondest  thought  is  thine,  — 
Whose  heart  is  bleeding  at  thy  shrine,  — 
Who  life  would  for  thy  sake  resign.  — 

Oh  !  think  upon  me.  dearest  ! 


THE  MAID  OF  THE  STORM, 


O!  SAY  for  whom  by  yonder  tomb 

Alone,  that  maiden  weeps  } 
Belov'd  most  dear,  her  lover  here 

On  wormy  pillow  sleeps! 
Beside  his  stone  she  kneels  alone. 

And  breathes  an  ardent  prayer, 
Her  eyes  upraising,  on  heaven  gazing. 

That  death  may  find  her  there. 

It  was  the  hour  that  beauty's  power 

Is  wont  to  reign  supreme. 
Yet  she,  the  queen  of  heav'n.  serener 

Imparted  not  a  beam ; 
p  2 


(          174          ) 

Her  train  around  in  darkness  drown'd 
Turn'd  not  their  beauty  down, 

For  earth  and  heaven  upon  that  even 
Appear'd  at  once  to  frown. 

The  stormy  king  his  flaming  wing 

Was  flapping  in  the  sky, 
Whose  awful  glare  no  man  could  bear 

Without  a  shudd'ring  eye ; 
Then  how  could  she  undaunted  be 

Amid  the  lightning  dread, 
Which  on  her  gaze  in  fearful  blaze 

Incessant  flash'd  and  fled  ? 

That  maiden's  eye  upon  the  sky 

No  terrors  could  behold ; 
Nor  heeded  she  from  heav'n  to  see 

The  lightning's  torrent  roll'd ; 
The  bursting  cloud  in  thunder  loud 

Unmark'd  her  ear  addrest ; 
One  thought  around  her  senses  wound. 

And  banish'd  all  the  rest. 

"  Not  now  we  part!"  with  sudden  start 

That  maiden  wildly  cried, 
To  one  who  near  she  thought  appear, 

"  Oh  welcome!  take  thy  bride!" 
In  fond  belief  of  credulous  grief, 

Unless  it  so  may  be 


(          175         ) 

That  faithful  maid  her  lover's  shade. 
Upon  his  grave,  might  see. 

As  at  the  sight  with  wild  delight 

She  forth  to  clasp  him  sprung, 
An  icy  chill  with  sudden  thrill 

On  all  her  limbs  was  flung ; 
And  from  her  view  the  form  withdrew, 

Receding  slow  within 
His  lowly  grave,  with  beck'ning  wave, 

As  there  his  bride  to  win. 

As  sunk  that  form  wild  rag'd  the  storm ; 

The  whirlwind  in  its  ire 
Swept  to  the  ground  the  tombs  around; 

The  lightnings  wrapt  in  fire 
Each  bending  tree,  whose  canopy 

Was  wont  a  shade  to  throw ; 
With  fearful  sound  at  once  the  ground 

Shook — burst — and  sunk  below ! 

The  maiden  sunk,  nor  even  shrunk 

As  on  the  bier  she  fell, 
Whose  bursting  lid  no  longer  hid 

The  form  she  lov'd  so  well ! 
The  corpse  beside  that  faithful  bride 

All  fearlessly  reclin'd ! 
Prov'd  her  last  breath  the  love  in  death 

Which  few  in  life  can  find ! 


(          176          ) 

The  morrow  came,  and  those  whose  name 

And  those  whose  hearts  she  bore, 
Rov'd  far  and  near,  with  hope  and  fear. 

That  maiden  to  explore  ; 
They  found  the  maid  all  lifeless  laid 

Upon  her  lover's  breast ; 
In  bridal  kiss  her  lips  to  his 

Cold  withering  cheek,  were  prest! 

Though  none  but  dread  their  grave  to  tread 

When  light  recedes  away, 
There  is  not  aught  to  claim  a  thought 

Of  fear,  by  night  or  day ; 
By  day  or  night  no  mortal  might 

Again  behold  that  form, 
For  calm  his  rest  since  he  possest 

The  Maiden  of  the  Storm! 


THE  SUN  OF  BEAUTY. 


YE  stars  which  seem  the  bended  eyes 
Of  the  bright  maids  of  paradise, 
Whose  glances  steal  at  hour  of  even 
Through  the  blue  canopy  of  heaven ! 


(          177         ) 

The  earth  on  which  your  light  is  streaming 
Has  eyes  with  equal  splendor  beaming, 
Where  yonder  blooming  virgin  band 
Are  lightly  tripping  hand  in  hand, 
And  now  recede,  and  now  advance, 
In  all  the  mazes  of  the  dance, 
Around  their  queen,  as  fair  and  bright 
As  yours,  the  regent  of  the  night! 

But  when  aside  Apollo  flings 
The  shroud  that  now  around  him  clings. 
Tosses  on  high  his  dazzling  hair, 
And  breathes  into  the  burning  air, 
You  shrink  obscur'd,  but  we  forget, 
In  his,  your  splendor  to  regret. 

And  thus  when  Beauty's  Sun,  her  soul, 

Shall  in  its  car  angelic  roll 

From  earth  to  heav'n — Oh  could  its  blaze 

Be  given  to  our  mortal  gaze, 

We  should  not  weep,  thus  broken-hearted, 

That  from  her  eyes  the  stars  departed ! 


(          178          ) 
MONODY  ON 

MARY  JANETTE  ASTEN, 


OH  !  say  not  that  her  fair  blue  eyes 

Are  clos'd  in  death  forever! 
They  now  are  beaming  in  the  skies, 

Where  night  shall  shroud  them  never ! 
JNTor  say  that  from  her  cherub  face 

Corruption  sweeps  the  roses, 
While  in  the  dark  and  chill  embrace 

Of  death,  her  form  reposes ! 

IVor  say  around  her  marble  brow 

That  reptiles -are  entwining; 
For  there,  in  light  eternal,  now 

A  seraph's  wreath  is  shining ! 
Your  Mary  to  the  wormy  grave 

Her  beauty  has  not  given  ; 
The  charms  which  to  your  eye  she  gave 

Have  fled — but  where  ? — to  heaven ! 

It  was  not  Mary  to  the  tomb 
You  bore,  with  bosom  bleeding ; 

It  is  not  upon  Mary's  bloom 
The  worm  of  death  is  feeding ; 


(          179         ) 

In  her  disguise  deceived  your  eye 
The  clay  that  once  enshrin'd  her: 

You  only  saw  before  you  lie 
The  robe  she  left  behind  her! 

Xor  say  that  she  no  more  is  near — 

With  eyes  of  fondness,  over 
The  parents,  who  bewail  her  here, 

Her  angel  pinions  hover ! 
And  from  the  lips,  that  when  below 

So  oft  were  your's  caressing, 
Although  unheard,  her  accents  flow, 

Her  weeping  parents  blessing ! 

You  know  her  blest — and  yet  you  weep — 

But  who,  the  tears  of  feeling 
Which  from  the  parents'  eyes,  to  steep 

The  child  belov'd,  are  stealing, 
Wish  reason  calmly  would  restrain, 

His  words  unreck'd  were  spoken ; 
For  reason's  coldness  pleads  in  vain 

To  hearts  with  anguish  broken. 

But  there  shall  come  a  time  at  last 

To  heal  the  broken-hearted, 
To  banish  all  the  anguish  past 

You  felt  since  she  departed, 


(          180          ) 

When  you  reclasp  her  to  your  heart 
In  worlds  were  none  shall  sever, 

Where  death  can  never  bid  you  part 
Again — Oh  never!  never! 


MONODY  ON 

ABRAHAM  W.  RICH, 

A n  interesting  Child,  who  during  his  illness  ex 
pressed  an  unwillingness  to  recover. 


THE  happiest  hours  that  mortals  know 

Attend  on  childhood's  guiltless  day, 
And  yet,  alas !  how  oft  to  woe 

Must  even  childhood  be  a  prey! 
How  oft,  when  scarce  his  life  has  sprung 

Emerging  from  its  infancy, 
May  man  exclaim,  with  anguish  wrung, 

"  This  world  is  not  a  world  for  me!" 

"  This  world  is  not  a  world  for  me!" 
Such  was  thy  thought,  thou  angel  boy, 


When  death  was  bending  over thee, 
Thy  young  existence  to  destroy! 

Of  life  though  but  the  brightest  side 
Alone,  thine  infant  gaze  could  see, 

To  all  its  charms  thy  heart  replied, 
"  This  world  is  not  a  world  forme!" 

Thou  hadst  no  will  to  stay  below, 

Thou  hadst  no  will  to  shun  the  grave, 
And  yet  but  little  didst  thou  know, 

The  ills  from  which  the  tomb  can  save! 
Oh !  hadst  thou  seen  their  dark  array, 

Thou  hadst  exclaim'd,  on  bended  knee, 
"  Oh  take  me  from  the  world  away ! 

This  world  is  not  a  world  for  me !" 

Then  thou  whose  lonely  eyes  are  turn'd 

Where  late  they  saw  thy  darling  lie 
In  fever's  fierce  embraces  burn'd, 

Oh !  listen  to  him  from  the  sky ! 
Dost  thou  not  hear  his  cherub  voice, 

Its  accents  warbling  thus  to  thee, 
"  Oh  weep  not,  mother,  but  rejoice ! 

Thy  world  was  not  a  world  for  me!" 


(          182         ) 

MONODY  ON  L.  T.  GUEST, 

A  BEAUTIFUL  LITTLE  BOY. 


How  fondly  the  parents  behold  their  dear  boy. 
As  he  gambols  before  them  in  innocent  joy! 
How  thrills  to  their  heart  the  glad  lightning  that 

flies, 
On  the  wings  of  delight,  from  their  cherub's  young 

eyes, 

As  fair  as  the  sky,  when  the  sun's*  brightest  ray 
Has  chas'd  the  pale  cloud  from  its  beauty  away ! 
While  his  clustering   hair  now  conceals,  now 

discloses 
His  seraphic  cheeks,  its  soft  pillow  of  roses! 

But  ah !  with  what  anguish  their  bosom  is  wrung, 
Above  the  pale  corpse  of  their  darling  when  hung! 
Oh  none  but  a  parent  can  feel,  or  can  tell 
Within  them  what  heart-breaking  agonies  swell, 
As   they   kiss    the   cold    eyes    animation   once 

brighten'd, 

But  never — Oh  never!  again  shall  be  lighten'd! 
And  the  cheek  now  as  pale  as  the  shroud  that  at 

even 
Is  flung  o'er  the  vanishing  splendor  of  heaven. 


(         183         ) 

The  grave  is  the  bed  of  his  beauty.—  The  light 
Of  his  eyes,  is  extinguished  in  death's  dreary  night  \ 
But  the  light  of  the  soul,  which  once  sparkled 

within, 

Unclouded  by  sorrow,  undarken'd  by  sin, 
That  light  is  not  quench'd  !  It  is  flaming  above 
On  the  altar  of  innocence,  beauty  and  love  ! 
And  bending,  his  parents  to  soothe  from  despair, 
He  turns  them  to  heaven  and  beckons  them  there  ! 


MY  LUTE.  AND  I  HAVE  DONE. 

PARAPHRASED  FROM  WYATT. 


AWAKE,  my  lute!  Let  now  our  last 
Adieu  to  love  and  her  be  cast, 

The  end  of  all  \ve  have  begun ; 
And  when  this  parting  lay  is  past, 

Be  still  my  lute,  for  I  have  done! 

Though  sooner  voice  can  reach  the  dead. 
Or  marble  be  engrav'd  with  lead, 

Than  by  our  lay  her  heart  be  won, 
Shall  sigh  be  breath'd  or  word  be  said  ? 

No,  no,  my  lute,  for  I  have  done ! 


(          184          ) 

The  cruelty  of  rocks  is  less, 

When  they  the  girdling  waves  repress, 

Than  she  has  thrown  my  suit  upon ; 
Whereby  I  am  beyond  redress, 

And  thus  my  lute  and  I  have  done ! 

Though  proud  thy  triumph  in  the  smart 
Of  ev'ry  fond  neglected  heart, 

Which  love  to  thy  control  has  won, 
Think  not  for  thine  remains  no  dart, 

Although  rny  lute  and  I  have  done ! 

Revenge  shall  meet  thee  for  the  scorn 
That  love  sincere  from  thee  has  borne ; 

Think  not  alone,  beneath  the  sun, 
To  triumph  while  poor  lovers  mourn, 

Although  my  lute  and  I  have  done ! 

When  fade  thy  charms  by  with'ring  age 
Thou  shalt  bewail,  in  winter's  rage, 

Except  the  cold  moon  heard  by  none  ; 
Then  thoughts  like  mine  shall  thee  engage, 

But  care  who  list,  for  I  have  done ! 

Thy  coyness  thou  shalt  well  repent, 
And  all  the  time  so  idly  spent 

Thy  lovers  in  distress  to  run  ; 
Then  shalt  thou  know  thy  charms  but  lent. 

And  sigh  for  love,  as  I  have  done ! 


Now  cease,  my  lute,  for  no\v  our  last 
Adieu  to  love  and  her  is  cast, 

And  all  is  ended  erst  begun  : 
Since  now  the  parting  lay  is  past 

Be  still  m    lute,  for  I  have  done! 


FAREWELL. 


FAREWELL!  farewell!  the  fervent  prayer 

Affection  breathes,  shall  still  attend  thee 
That  happiness  may  meet  thee,  where 

Thy  future  destiny  shall  send  thee  ; 
That  cherub  Health  may  there  be  found, 

Her  blessings  on  her  pinions  bringing. 
And  smiling  hover  thee  around, 

Upon  thy  head  those  blessings  flinging. 

United  in  affection's  sway 

When  stranger-hearts  to  thee  are  given. 
Forget  not  those  who  far  away 

Regret  that  from  them  thou  art  riven : 
\Vhen  treading  on  a  foreign  shore, 

Tho'  friends  as  dear, — as  fond. — may  greet  thee. 
Forget  not  those  who  sigh,  once  more 

In  health  and  happiness  to  meet  thee. 
Q2 


186          ) 

And  must  thou  then  far  distant  dwell  ? 

My  kindest  thoughts  attend  thee  thither! 
Our  eyes  must  bid  a  long  farewell, 

But  memory  shall  waft  thee  hither! 
And  when  thy  thoughts  are  backward  flung 

Of  scenes  departed  to  remind  thee, 
Wilt  thou  not  think  of  me,  among 

The  friends  whom  thou  hast  left  behind  thee 


FAREWELL  TO  E K- 


How  oft  shall  memory's  glance  be  cast 
To  the  lovely  eve  when  I  met  thee  last! 
No  star  was  seen  in  the  silver  sky, 
And  the  moon  was  hid  from  mortal  eye, 
And  the  sun  had  gone  to  his  briny  bed, 
Yet  a  beautiful  light  upon  earth  was  shed, 
For  the  gloam  of  eve  had  a  soften'd  ray 
Reflected  from  the  departing  day ; 
And  I  said  in  my  heart,  as  I  mark'd  how  tender 
A  light  had  succeeded  the  vanish'd  splendor, 
li  May  a  beam  as  soft — as  calm — and  as  sweet, 
Illumine  thy  heart  till  again  we  meet!" 


(          137 

Each  moment  fled  on  too  swift  a  wing 
The  fated  moment  of  parting  to  bring, 
And  I  felt  that  there  is  no  pang  above 
The  pang  inflicted  on  Parting  Love ! 

As  my  fingers  twin-d  in  thy  locks  of  gold 
Adown  thy  neck  of  ivory  roll'cl, 
And  I  saw  thy  blue  eyes,  fix'd  on  mine, 
In  soft  and  artless  tenderness  shine, 
And  I  prest  in  mine  thy  dear,  dear  hand, 
My  feelings  I  could  not  well  command, 
But  I  turn'd  my  head  to  hide  the  tear 
At  the  thought  of  parting  with  one  so  dear. 

But  I  was  sooth'd  by  the  welcome  word 
That  our  last  farewell  should  be  defer'd, 
And  we  should  meet  again  on  the  morrow, 
Yet  it  must  be  a  meeting  of  sorrow, 
For  we  meet  to  part! — But  why  complain  ? 
Since  we  only  part  to  meet  again — 
To  meet  again  in  an  hour  of  joy, 
Which  no  dread  of  parting  shall  alloy. 

But  dearest,  before  thou  leav'st  me  spare 
One  tress  of  thy  beautiful  auburn  hair, 
Which  often,  while  thou  must  distant  be. 
My  lips  may  press  as  if  it  were  thee ! 


(          188         ) 

And  the  prayer  I  day  and  night  shall  breathe, 
That  upon  the  dear  head,  where  that  auburn 

wreath 

Once  danc'd,  may  descend  misfortune  never, 
But  blessings  rain  forever  and  forever. 

Farewell  to  thee,  dearest!  but  with  thee  bear 
A  heart  that  will  love  thee  every-where! 
Farewell  to  thee,  dearest!  do  not  regret  me, 
But  if  my  memory  pain  thee,  forget  me! 
Farewell,  since  fate  must  our  parting  compel! 
Farewell  to  thee,  dearest !  Farewell !  Farewell ! 


THE  REGRET. 


WOULD  that  we  had  met  before 
Thou  hadst  to  another  spoken 

What  can  be  recal'd  no  more, 
Nor,  except  by  death,  be  broken! 

Would  that  1  had  met  thee,  ere 
Thou  hadst  to  another  given 

All  I  love  or  value  here, — 

All  on  earth  I  dream'd  of  heaven! 


(          189         ) 

When  of  other  maids  I  sung, 

\Vrapt  in  fond  imagination, 
Charms  that  were  not  theirs  I  flung 

O'er  them,  in  a  dream's  creation. 

Eyes  of  heaven's  deepest  blue, 

Undulating  raven  tresses, 
Cheeks  that  shame  the  rose's  hue, 

Lips  that  love  soft-breathing  presses ; 

Those  in  others  I  may  find 
Lovely  as  they  cluster  o'er  thee. 

But  the  beauties  of  thy  mind 

Bade  me  more  than  those  adore  thee. 

Once, — but  once, — a  mind  I  met 

All  in  all  thine  own  resembling, 
But  it  in  a  form  was  set 

Where  no  outward  charms  were  trembling. 

All  who  erst  my  heart  could  win 

Soon  its  ardour  found  declining, 
Till  1  found  without — within — 

All  their  charms  in  thee  combining ! 

Then  indeed  the*  dream  display'd 
Truth  that  all  its  raptures  smothers, 

For  I  found  my  visioivd  maid 
Liv'd  indeed — but  liv'd  another's ! 


(         190         ) 

But  farewell !  I'd  not  prevail 
On  thy  plighted  heart  to  waver ; 

Could  its  truth  a  moment  fail, 
Mine  would  scorn  the  worthless  favour. 


THE  LONELY  HEART. 


I  HAD  a  father — he  is  dead ! — 

A  mother — she  no  more  is  mine ! — 
A  sister — on  her  grave  I  tread ! — 

And  brothers — they  in  death  recline  !- 
I  had  a  friend — he  rent  the  tie ! — 

I  had  a  lov'd  one — ruthless  fate ! — 
Where  is  she  now  ?  And  what  am  I? 

Oh  God!  This  heart  is  desolate ^ 


TO  A  LITTLE  BOY 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  MOTHER. 


ALAS,  no  more  a  mother's  tongue 
Shall  bless  her  darling  boy  in  thee! 

Those  little  arms,  which  round  her  clung, 
When  thou  hast  prattled  on  her  knee, 


Those  arms  no  more  shall  her  embrace. 
No  more  thy  pillow  be  her  breast  •, — 

Thine  eyes  no  more  shall  greet  her  face, — 
Thy  lips  no  more  to  her's  be  prest. 

Though  here  she  never  shall  be  found. 

From  thee  her  spirit  has  not  fled  ; 
But  still  she  hovers  thee  around 

To  shower  her  blessings  on  thy  head : 
Yes,  bending  from  the  world  of  bliss, 

Where  now  her  home  eternal  lies. 
Upon  her  darling  boy,  in  this, 

She  turns  her  bright  immortal  eyes- 

Oh  may  the  God  who  call'd  her  there. 

The  Father  of  the  Fatherless, 
His  Holy  Spirit's  guardian  care 

To  thee  impart,  to  guide  and  bless ; 
To  lead  thee  to  the  realms  above. 

Where  now  her  arms  are  open  thrown, 
To  clasp  thee  in  that  world  of  Love. 

Where  parting  shall  no  more  be  known. 


(         192         ) 
WRITTEN  UNDER  A 

BOUQUET  IN  AN  ALBUM, 


THOUGH  Lady  thou,  with  glance  admiring. 

Have  met  the  violet's  eyes  of  blue, 
The  lilly's  virgin  breast  retiring 

In  bashful  sweetness  from  the  view, 
The  rose,  like  beauty  in  its  pride, 

Which  blushes  as  it  courts  thine  eyes. 
And  every  lovely  flower  beside 

That  blooms  in  Flora's  Paradise ; 
One  flower  I  know  can  all  excel 

That  bloom  around  us  or  above ; — 
Oh  lady,  need  thy  Minstrel  tell 

That  flower  is  named  the  Flower  of  Love ! 


THE  HOUR  OF  EVEN. 


As  at  the  lovely  Hour  of  Even, 
I  gaze  upon  yon  spangled  heaven, 
Which  in  its  azure  veil  array'd, 
Reminds  me  of  my  Blue-ey'd  Maid, 


(          193          ) 

Wilt  Thou,  enthron'd  in  glory  there. 
The  cause  of  all  that's  bright  and  fair. 
Wilt  Thou  not  from  thy  holy  sphere 
The  prayer  1  breathe  to  bless  her  hear, 
That  her  unsullied  heart  may  be 
Resigned  to  God — to  Love — to  me, — 
And  when  by  death  from  shrines  of  clay 
Our  spirits  shall  be  wing'd  away, 
We  may.  to  part  no  more,  unite 
In  worlds  of  bliss,  of  love,  and  light! 


THE  ADIEU. 


FAREWELL,  farewell,  my  blue-ey'd  maid! 

Those  words  I  thought  to  utter  never. 
Till  death's  cold  hand  were  on  me  laid 

To  tear  me  from  thy  sight  forever : 
But  deadened  to  affection's  sway 

Thy  bosom  proves  ; — then  let  the  fire, 
Whose  ardour  thou  couldst  ill  repay. 

With  all  my  dearest  hopes,  expire! 

We  part — but  must  we  part  unkindly? 
I  thought  not  once  this  e'er  might  be. 


(          194          ) 

When,  yielding  to  my  passion  blindly, 
1  turn'd  mine  every  hope  to  thee : 

I  thought  that  from  a  guileless  heart 
The  fond,  the  dear,  confession  came, 

That  should  we  but  a  moment  part, 

Thy  pangs  and  mine  would  be  the  same. 

I  once  was  welcom'd  by  the  eyes 

Whose  angry  lightnings  blast  me  now, 
And  smiling  calm  as  ev'ning  skies, 

I  once  beheld  that  darkened  brow : 
Why  art  thou  chang'd?  or  is  it  true, 

Affection  was  to  thee  unknown, 
E'en  when  those  starry  eyes  of  blue 

Their  thrilling  smile  have  on  me  thrown/ 

Farewell, — and  never  may  thy  heart, 

My  blue-ey'd  maid,  as  well  regret 
The  hour  that  we  forever  part, 

As  mine  the  hour  we  ever  met ! 
With  an  internal  prayer  that  thou 

May  see  no  hope  in  ruin  laid, 
My  last  adieu  I  leave  thee  now; 

Farewell, — farewell, — my  blue-ey'd  maid ! 


THE  RECAL. 


FORGIVE  the  wild  ungovern'd  burst 

Of  frantic  love,  so  ill  requited, 
That  rav'd  its  hopes  too  fondly  nurst 

For  years,  and  in  a  moment  blighted! 
rs  ot  from  my  heart  the  accents  fell 

Which  flung  a  stern  adieu  forever  ; 
Tiiis  heart  could  never  bid  farewell, 

My  blue-ey'd  rnaid.  —  Oh  never,  never! 

1  met  thee  with  a  sullen  cloud  — 

It  fled  before  a  ray  of  kindness  ; 
And  I  forgot  mine  anger  proud, 

Enslav'd  again  in  passion's  blindness  ; 
Though  love  may  linger  far  away, 

An  exile  from  thy  heart  forever, 
Can  mine  rebel  against  his  sway? 

.My  blue-ey'd  maid,  Oh  never,  never! 


TO  JULIET. 


MY  darling  girl,  if  soon  forever 
From" one  another  we  must  sever,. 
Though  thou  perhaps  will  not  regret  me. 
Cut  in  the  parting  hour  forget  me. 


(         196         ) 

Go  where  thou  wilt,  to  memory's  eye 
Thine  image  shall  be  ever  nigh. 

If  fortune's  smile,  or  glory's  ray, 
Upon  my  lot  hereafter  play, 
My  prayer  shall  rise  that  thou  may  be 
As  blest,  if  not  more  blest  than  me. 
But  if  my  future  path  I  find 
As  dark  as  1  have  left  behind, 
Thy  Minstrel  Boy  shall  breathe  a  prayeiv 
That  thou  his  lot  may  never  share. 

Though  sorrow's  rod  be  on  me  laid, 
Though  clouds  my  dark  existence  shade, 
May  angels  hover  near,  from  ill 
To  guard  their  sister  angel  still. 

And  if  indeed  thou  wouldst  be  blest,. 
Be  virtue  still  thy  bosom's  guest ; 
Let  virtue's  charms  adorn  thy  heart, 
And  bright  and  lovely  as  thou  art, 
The  sparkling  soft  cerulean  eyes, 
Like  stars  amid  the  azure  skies  ; 
The  ringlets,  wreathing  in  their  brightness 
Around  a  brow  of  marble  whiteness; 
And  all  thy  loveliness  combin'd, 
Will  be  more  lovely  for  thy  mind. 


(         197         ) 
WRITTEN  ON  THE  NEW-YORK  INSTITUTION  FOR  THE 

DEAF  AND  DUMB. 


OF  ignorance  the  former  victims,  here 
Rise  to  a  nobler  and  a  happier  sphere ; 
The  blessings  their  unhappy  lot  denied 
Again  by  education  are  supplied  ; 
To  burst  the  clouds  that  wrap  the  mind  in  night : 
To  gaze  on  Science  in  her  shrine  of  light; 
When  friends  belov'd  in  social  converse  meet, 
To  interchange  with  them  communion  sweet; — 
\V  ith  warm  affection's  eloquence  to  tell 
What  fond  emotions  in  the  bosom  swell ; — 
These  blessings  they  have  found, — nor  these  alone ; 
They  know  the  most  sublime  that  can  be  known — 
They  know  a  God! — to  Him  their  steps  are  led 
The  path  of  everlasting  joy  to  tread  : — 
Their  knees  are  taught  to  bow  His  throne  before ; 
Their  hearts  a  Friend  and  Father  to  adore. 

Before  her  God,  upon  her  bended  knee, 
In  fervent  prayer  the  cherub  infant  see  ; 
Her  raven  hair  in  tremulous  wreaths  entwining. 
Upon  her  cheek's  carnation  bed  reclining ; 


While  she  might  seem  to  the  enthusiasms  eyes 
Descended  in  her  beauty  from  the  skies! 
Her  lips  are  mute,  —  but  from  her  heart  a  prayer 
Ascends  to  heav'n,  is  heard  and  answer'd  there  ; 
And  vvouldst  thou  know  what  from  that  heart 

proceeds  ? 

For  those  who  led  her  to  a  God  she  pleads, 
That  all  the  blessings  they  to  her  have  given 
May  be  on  earth  repaid  them,  and  in  heaven, 


THE  MUSIC  OF  BEAUTY. 


To  me  thy  lips  are  mute,  but  when  I  gaze 
Upon  thee  in  thy  perfect  loveliness, — 
No  trait  that  should  not  be, — no  lineament 
To  jar  with  the  exquisite  harmony 
Of  Beauty's  music,  breathing  to  the  eyes, 
1  pity  those  who  think  they  pity  me ; 
Who  drink  the  tide  that  gushes  from  thy  lips 
Unconscious  of  its  sweets,  as  if  they  were 
E'en  as  I  am — and  turn  their  marble  eyes 
Upon  thy  loveliness,  without  the  thrill 
That  maddens  me  with  joys's  delirium. 


(         199         ) 

THE  SWISS  SHEPHERD'S  SONG, 


FROM    THE    FRESCH. 


WHEN  shall  the  day  return  for  me 
Each  object  of  my  love  to  see  I 
Our  crystal  rills, 
Our  little  hills, 
With  rapture's  thrills 
When  shall  I  view  ? 
Our  hamlets,  and  our  mountains  too  ? 
On  her  who  ornaments  them  gaze, 
Sweet  Isabelle?  Or  tread  the  maze 
Of  dance,  where  yews  repel  the  sunny  blaze  ? 

When  shall  the  day  return  for  me 
Each  object  of  my  love  to  see  ? 

My  father  meet, 

My  mother  greet, 

My  sister  sweet, 
And  brother  dear  ? 

My  flocks, —  my  sheep. 

When  shall  I  keep, 
With  shepherd- maiden  near  ? 


(          200         ) 

EULOGY  EXTRAORDINARY, 


THOUGH  she  is  fair,  not  her's  the  dazzling  blaze 
Which  bids  us  kneel  adoring  as  we  gaze-; 
Within  her  veins  no  lordly  crimson  flows, 
And  fortune  at  her  feet  no  treasure  throws  ; 
No  sparkling  wit  illuminates  her  mind, 
And  few  the  gems  of  science  there  enshrin'd  ; 
Yet  her's  a  charm  that  every  charm  supplies, 
That  bids  me  love  her, — bids  me  idolize 
As  she  were  a  descended  Cherubim, — 
She  loves  her  God,  and  loves  me  next  to  Him! 


EPITHALAMIUM. 


As  now  you  hail  the  hour  of  bliss, 
Be  all  your  future  hours  like  this! 
Nor  shall  that  prayer  be  breath'd  in  vain 
While  love  as  now  your  hearts  retain; 
Nor  ill  shall  frown  upon  you,  while 
The  eyes  of  love  to  bless  you  smile ; 


(         201          ) 

Nor  anguish  near  her  terrors  bring 
\\  hile  you  to  one  another  cling  : 
But  every  bliss,  in  bright  array, 
Around  you  shall  forever  play, 
Which  now  is  with  its  pinion  airy 
Fanning  thee  and  thy  Angel  Mary. 

Thy  angel!  Yes!  she  well  may  claim 
Though  mortal  an  immortal's  name. 
For  ail  the  charms  to  her  belong 
That  poets  sketch  in  fancy's  song, 
Or  lovers,  with  delusion's  eyes 
Create  themselves  to  idolize. 
The  angels,  as  to  gaze  they  bend, 
A  sister's  name  to  her  may  lend, 
And  echo  to  the  prayer  we  breathe. 
That  every  blessing  may  a  wreath 
Entwine,  whose  bloom  shall  never  vary, 
For  thee  and  for  thy  Angel  Mary. 

And  see,  within  that  wreath  to  blaze, 

Love, — Beauty. — Youth. — combine  their  rays : 

\\  hile  Friendship's  hand  another  flower 

Would  add  to  the  ambrosial  shower  ; 

And  Friendship's  eyes  another  beam 

Upon  the  tide  of  light  and  stream, 

Whose  halo  on  the  nuptial  brow 

Salutes  their  gaze  enrapturd  now  : 


(         20-2         ) 

But  earth  can  give  no  added  bliss, — 
Then  Friendship  asks  alone,  that  this 
May  never  for  a  moment  vary 
From  thee  or  from  thy  Angel  Mary. 


GOOD  NIGHT. 


MAY  slumber  kiss  thy  dear  lids  lightly. 
May  fancy  sketch  thy  visions  brightly, 
Good  angels  guard  thy  couch  from  sorrow* 
Vnd  pleasure  welcome  thee  to-morrow. 


MNIS. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

The  Legend  of  the  Rocks,        .... 
A  Father's  Name  :  A  Monody, 

The  Orphan's  Dream. 

The  Minstrel  Boy, 

The  Gallant  Highland  Rover, 

The  Grave  of  Mary, 

Written  on  seeing  the  Grare  of  Mary,      - 

The  Blue-Ey'd  Maid, 

Monody  on*E.  F.  iN'ack,  .... 

The  Fair  Maniac. 

The  Dream  of  Bliss, 

Scorn  Requited, 

Mary  Dearest, 

The*Billet-dous, 

Martial  Ode,  

Monody  on  C.  F.  Kartell,         .... 
Lines  occasioned  by  a  Brother's  Monody, 

To  Evelina  F tt. 

My  Darline  Little  Mary, 

To  Amelia  K g,  * 

Life  and  Death,         - 

The  Prayer  of  Purity, 

Thou  art  gone  before  me,          - 
Our  Love  shall  bloom  in  Heaven,     - 

The  Bridal  Day. 

To  Julia  Maria  S ,      - 

Ode  for  the  New  Year, 

Ossian's  Address  to  the  Sun, 

Horace,  lib.  1st.  Ode  5th,  140 

I  Loved  thee  ever  Dearly,         - 

The  ever  blooming  Flower,      ....         142 

To  Elizabeth. 

One  kiss  before  we  part, 

j'arewell  to  Emma, 

Fair  Adelaide/ 

Inconstancy,     ------- 

My  Childhood.          ..--'--         151 

Come  to  mv  Home,  - 

The  Charms  of  Woman,  ....         154 

The  Sun  of  our  Lot, 1-57 


204 


Page. 

The  Shore  of  Heaven,      -        ....  158 

Deluded  1  ove,           ......  160 

The  Nightly  Mourner,      .....  162 

Love:  An  Apology,           .....  165 

Address  for  the  New-York  Theatre,           -         -  167 

She  Loves  me,          -         -         -         -         -         -  170 

Think  of  me,            ......  172 

Maid  of  the  Storm,           .....  173 

Sun  of  Beauty,          ......  1  76 

Monody  on  Mary  J   Asten,        -         -         -         -  178 

Monody  on  A.  W   Rich,            ....  180 

My  Lute  and  I  have  done,        -         -         -         -  183 

Farewell,          .......  185 

Fare  well  to  E  -  K  -  ,         -         -         -         -  186 

The  Regret,      .......  187 

The  Lonely  Heart,             .....  190 

To  a  Little  Boy  on  the  Death  of  his  Mother,     -  ib. 

Written  in  an  Album,        .....  192 

The  Hour  of  Even,            .....  ib. 

The  Adieu,       ---»---  193 

The  Recal,        -         -         -         -         -         -         -  195 

To  Juliet,          .......  ib. 

Written  on  the  New-York  Institution  for  the  Deaf 

and  Dumb,         ......  197 

The  Music  of  Beauty,        .....  198 

The  Swiss  Shepherd's  Song,     ....  199 

Eulogy  Extraordinary,     .....  200 

Kpithalamium,          ......  jb. 

Good  Night,       .......  202 


ERRATA. 

Page  11,  line  1.  for  meteor's,  read  meteors'. 
"  line  4,  dele  the  marks  of  quotation. 
"  line  5   for  thou  shall,  read  thon  shall. 
"  line  last,  for  thou  are,  read  t/iou  art. 

12,  line  2J,  for  E'en,  read  Even 

13,  line  3,  for  meteors,  read  meteors'. 
28,  line  1,  for  shown,  read  shone. 

"  line  11,  for  ruffian,  read  ruffians-. 
GO,  last  line  but  one,  for  heathens,  read  heathen's. 
107,  line  2,  for  Here,  read  Her. 
139,  line  8,  for  mountain's,  read  mountains'. 

179,  line  17,  for  Wish,  read  With. 

180,  line  2,  for  were,  read  where. 


I 
s 


